Long Live Cyclonia
by StormWriter18
Summary: Cyclonia:It has been defeated and risen time after time. Now it has finally triumphed, once and for all. The Storm Hawks are no more. They were destroyed by Master Cyclonis. Renown Crystal Mage. Exalted empress. My Mother. Now I am the Master. Now I rule.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't know what crack my brain was on when it came up with this...**

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**_Calandrella Raytal Cyclonis. _Otherwise known as Master Cyclonis, one in a long line of Master Cyclonises. The youngest ever to succeed the throne, and certainly the greatest of all my predecessors. Responsible for the final defeat of Atmos at the age of sixteen, and for the defeat of the troublesome Storm Hawks, my Mother was undoubtedly one of the most powerful people to have lived. A true crystal mage who's skill knew no bounds- she's given me plenty to live up to, and a whole world to command.

I flip through a threw a few pages in the history book and skim the page.

…_aided with the Krystallions warriors of the Farside, Raytal Cyclonis was able to defeat the young problematic squadron. Foolishly, they had chosen to follow Cyclonis through the Doorway, unaware that she had already allied herself with the people of the city. Caught unprepared for such a major battle against such powerful warriors, the Storm Hawks were quickly defeated, Cyclonis responsible for much of the effort herself. Afterwards-_

But it's all old news to me. Before their defeat the Storm Hawks had been praised by Atmos and hated by the Cyclonians_, a so-called _invincible squadron. Just a bunch of kids who got lucky really. Raw talent. But what good is talent without the brains to use it? They chose wrong in the end, and as always, Cyclonian prevailed, an inevitable destiny. A unchallengeable truth. Atmos belonged to Cyclonia. Was Cyclonia.

Is Cyclonia.

And it's now my job to make sure it stays that way. The second youngest to rule, seventeen and counting. Mother hadn't been old when she had died, but she had been exposed to far too much crystal radiation for her own good. Always trying to make better stronger weapons, always fusing and creating new gems. An indefinite number of crystals always on her form at all times. I've learned to take more precaution.

I shut the book and stick it back into it's place on the shelf. It's my responsibility to keep everyone in their place. My responsibility as the new Master Cyclonis.

As her son.

Ruler of the new era.

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**A/N; This isn't gonna be very long. A couple long chaps or several short chaps maybe. **

**Update 3/01/10 Scratch that. I don't know how to write a short story.**

As for Cyclonis' name (the real non-made up Cyclonis), I know a lot of people like to use Lark as her first name but that always seemed kinda silly to me- I mean, imagine you're an evil villain: would you really use your real first name when disguising yourself? Plus, it's a little bit too fluffy for an overlord. So I compromised.

**Calandrella Raytal** is actually the binomial name for a Lark- specifically a 'sand lark' which according to wikipedia is also an alias for the common sand **piper**. But I don't really trust wikipedia.


	2. Chapter 2

_Corvus Corone Cyclonis. _Otherwise known as Master Cyclonis, one in a long line of master Cylonises. The second youngest to ever succeed the throne and I plan to be just as great as my predecessors.

I'm standing in the library again, running my fingers across the spines of the books. I imagine that each one shudders as my fingertips grace their presence. I notice how pale my skin is next to the dark leather bound history. I take out another old book and flip through it.

_Commanders Snipe and Ravess…_

I snort. Few don't know their stories. The oh so pathetic siblings of failure. I'm only surprised that they lasted so long in my mother's service. A whole two years of work , tainted mostly by defeat. I skim down the page.

…_locked in Cyclonia's own prisons. Cyclonis was immensely displeased with this failure and Ravess was thus banished from Cyclonia forever for her impudence. The archer disappeared and it is rumoured that she acted as an informant to the Skyknights for a short time before completely disappearing from public eye…_

Shameful really. The highest representatives of the empire acting like mere children - no wonder the teenage Storm hawks had no problems beating them. The brother had been even more pathetic.

_Shortly before the fall of Terra Cyclonia, Commander Snipe was stripped of his rank, and banished to the wastelands - a generous punishment considering his numerous failures. He was dragged there unwillingly and thrown of the edge of the terra although it is reported that he had his parachute on him. However the parachute was perhaps the last anyone ever saw of the burly-_

I shut the book promptly. It doesn't have what I'm looking for.

***

I continue my Mother's work with pride. Her studies and knowledge of crystals were _immense, _but I've made a few discoveries and innovations of my own.

With the limited technology we gained from the Farside we have advanced much, though not as much as preferred. Unfortunately, the Krystallions did not agree with my Mother's conquest. Soon after the Storm Hawks' defeat they realized that she not only planned to used the technology to protect her own terra, but to control other terras as well. Although they were intelligent and quite developed, their beliefs were all backwards and they decided they could not let my Mother carry on as she wished.

_Which was a thoughtless choice on their part._

By then my Mother had already discovered their weakness. For one thing, they couldn't survive on our side of the Atmos (hence the reason they had never populated here). The free flowing form of energy necessary to sustain them was only present on the other side of the Barrier Cliffs. All my Mother had to do was shut the door on them, and when she wanted something there she'd just sneak back and take what she needed. I went sometimes with her on excavations. It's truly fascinating the power that's there, all stocked up on the other side. Boundless crystal deposits and stones with the strangest abilities. Shame we can't harvest more of it on a larger scale.

But ruling Atmos is enough of a challenge. Not as much as it was when my Mother ruled mind you- there were all sorts of disruptions back then. But she long ago crushed the rebel gangs, the ignorant fighters who didn't realize that this was for their own good. That this is destiny.

_That this is right. _

Under Cyclonian rule, there is no war, no dispute. There is one law, an undeniable law.

Things are far more organized now. All the terras running around doing whatever they pleased before?- It was so disjointed. Now, all the terras are united.

There is no chaos. There is control.

Cyclonian control.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Very short (and choppy) chapter cuz the next one is long. I really should be uploading the next Fluff chap instead but I've been a little out of it. It _should _be up by tommorow or tues at the latest. And I_ should_ be in bed. Or at least doing homework Xp**

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The question people are always asking (or whispering among themselves for no one would dare ask me) is who was my father? My Mother never did marry, and when my presence began to show the rumours were intense. Some claimed that my conception was deific, an event of divine significance. Others imagined that my Mother had somehow impregnated herself with the use of her numerous crystals and that I was like the crystal-based people of the Farside.

_Which is complete and utter idiocy. _

I was conceived the way all people are conceived. Whoever my father was, he was merely instrument used to assure that the line of rule would continue. He was of no other importance to anyone. Not to my mother and certainly not to me.

****

I'm in my work room , working on another project. Purple crystal shards glow quietly on the table as I pick apart the inner workings of solid indigo starlight. I stand up straight raising the goggles onto my brow and stretch. Tiring work. Promising work. My empire relies on this work.

I keep going.

***

Nineteen now.

I've got two years under my belt as supreme emperor of Cyclonia. After two years of rule my mother had began her advance on the entire Atmos. Me? So far I've merely managed to keep things the way they should be. Nothing grand, just the necessary everyday duties. My studies are intense. My skills are beginning to just near my Mother's abilities. Not close, but closer than ever. I can taste the power. Like when you look at something sweet. Even before you eat, the taste is there.

Mind you, I don't know how I can imagine something I've never had.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

I'm in my lab again, working. I'm usually the only person ever in here, and no one is ever allowed in here if I am not present. It's far too risky. Some of the Atmos's most powerful crystals are in here with me. The Aurora stone. High grade firebolts and premium quality strikers of all colours. A phoenix crystal from what was probably the last phoenix alive. A Nil crystal, Icers, cloakers- if it's useful, it's here. Some of the crystals are one of kind- discovered and brought here to be thoroughly examined by myself. I've figured out most of the mysteries, or half figured them anyways.

Except this one.

I hold the pale translucent blue crystal up to light and glints normally. The small chips I took out from one of it's faces did not react with any of my solutions. I've exposed it different temperatures, lights, and other crystals and the results are always unsatisfying. I long ago suspected that it was a dud- a shiny piece of rock that merely looks pretty, although it's so old and scratched it certainly isn't pretty now, let alone ten years ago. It's shape is cut simple. Orthorhombic to a degree. But if it really is a dud, I think to myself, why is it that it's here? Why would Mother have kept this locked up in a glass case along with all the other crystals? She left few notes to go along with it, vague and un-informing. But I'm determined to figure this crystal out, to uncover it's secrets as I have with all the other stones.

I look down at the notes reading them and I decide a little trip is in order.

****

It's cold up in the air. My Switchblade glides through the gusts and slices them in half. Two Nightcrawlers travel close behind- I don't like a big showing, but it would very unwise to travel alone, even here to this desolate terra.

My Switchblade hits the ground with a light thud, the Nightcrawlers just as audible. Half-dead grass bows down or is crushed by my tire wheels.

The wheels of Cyclonia.

Winters ' onset makes herself coldly apparent- dark green-grey clouds, chilling temperatures. The tall, tall trees that surround the oversized house are stripped bare, asleep for the winter, but by their haggard appearance I wonder if they're just dead.

I stop my bike in front of the huge metal door- a door made for giants.

In the corner of the door is a smaller door, one made for people less than eight feet tall. Another Nightcrawler stands in front of it- having been earlier notified of my visit- as the welcome.

Upon my approach he bows, then turns and opens the door with a metal key. I hear gears turn and clank. The Nightcrawler opens the door and steps aside to let me in. I go to walk in then stop and look at him.

"Where are the others?" I ask.

"Patrolling the yard," he replies in a wispy voice. _"Master."_

"Do you usually patrol the yard?"

"Yes." he replies. "Almost always outside."

I frown. "And?"

"Never any problems."

I nod, then continue forward.

Pointless. Absolutely pointless. Talons would do just as well patrolling the terra. Having Nightcrawlers here is a waste, even if it's only three. Nightcrawlers have far greater uses than petty patrol.

The guards stay outside. They don't need to be present.

Walking in I realize just how enormous this place is, and, how hollow. It's grandness makes it seem emptier. It's also dark. I can barely make out the ceiling or the far walls. The only light is coming from the right side of the room.

Firelight.

An unusual sight to myself.

It's orange glow reflects off the metal work on the walls. It's quiet except for the faint crackle of wood being devoured and the wind outside whistling it's way into the cracks of the ancient and poorly- maintained building. I tred lightly, but every scrap of my foot seems too loud.

There is a string of paper lanterns hanging, each end attached to the wall and the strings held up by wooden poles. They're blue, the lanterns, each lit by a small tea light inside. They surround what appears to the area of living- a line holding back the dark.

I have to bend to down to get past them.

The accommodations are simple. The fireplace, a warm mix of orange yellow light emanating from it like pile of a high-grade cooking crystals, is lodged into the wall. A large armchair sits in front of it. Above the fireplace, visible in the unsteady flames, is a mantle, lined with drawings or photographs and in the center, something metal glints.

Behind a series of fold up walls to the right of the fire place, in the corner of the gigantic room, appears to be more. The edge of a bed post just barely peeks out.

All this space, but everything is squished into this one section. So unproductive.

She's waiting at a table, sitting opposite from me, hands folded. There's a clump of candles melting together near the center. White wax drips down pooling on the cracked plate. I stand opposite from her. There's a chair, but I don't sit down.

"So for what do I own the honour, of the great King's presence?" she says, and I try to decipher her tone. Sarcastic? Sincere? She's hardly_ impressed _by my visit.

She's looking at me, I can tell, but her hair hangs over her eyes. The candle light catches her face and is caught in her wrinkles, darkening them, making them deeper. Her up-do hair is faded, greying in some places.

"Piper of the Storm Hawks." I state. Her head raises a little higher and I see her eyes.

Orange like the fire.

"That would be me." she says simply. "And you are _Corvus Corone Cyclonis, _yes? Bit of a mouthful that name."

"You may call me Master Cyclonis." I say.

She tilts her head curiously. "Hmm….No. That name belongs to someone else."

I narrow my eyes but say nothing. There's no point in arguing with her. Instead I get straight to business. From my cloak I pull out the crystal I've been researching.

Her eyes widened immediately.

"What do you know about _this?" _I say, holding out the crystal with my right hand.

She looks at the crystal and then at me. "Where did you get that?" she asks incredulous.

"My Mother's labs," I reply. "In of her notes she mentions that she took it from you_. I _want to know what it does."

She slowly leans back in her chair,. "I cant believe she kept it." she whispers. "After all this time…"

"_What does it do?" _I repeat more forcefully.

"_Do?" _she says surprised, breaking from the shock. "It doesn't _do_ anything. It's just a pendant- for show. It used to be mine."

_A pendant. _

_For show. _I grind my teeth together.

"Don't lie to me," I say angrily. "Tell me what it really is. My mother wouldn't have kept it if it wasn't important."

"Like I said," she says placidly. " It's just a regular crystal. An old keepsake of mine Cyclonis stole along time ago. It's nice to see it again."

It's too much to hear. I've been letting this crystal torment me for weeks- thinking it held some secret ability. It's nothing but a dud- and I the fool who thought it more. But I can't tell if she's lying or not. I'm too angry to really care.

"_Then keep it." _I say and throw the crystal onto the floor by the table. I hold my staff in one hand and slam the end of it on top of the crystal - shattering the blue gem on the floor. The tiny pieces glimmer softly in the fire's light. Glimmer- not glow. Nothing special about them at all. I've wasted my time- so much time on this crystal and on this pointless visit.

I turn to leave and start walking away. I won't trouble myself with this anymore.

"And don't bother to pick up the pieces," I shout back and then stop to look at her. She's still sitting behind the table. "The Nightcrawlers are going to come in and clean that up."

After all, no crystal, no matter how use useless, can left in her possession. She's old , locked up and under guard, but once a crystal mage always a crystal mage, and with her ability, every precaution is necessary. Here, hidden away in the giant Gunstaff's house, once filled with crystals- crystals that were long ago brought to Cyclonia- she's kept hidden and separated from the weapons that once were her passion, her greatest grace.

Hence the fire- always firelight.

"I expected as much," she says sadly . "I doesn't matter though. I considered that crystal lost decades ago. Besides," she adds and I watch she her form moves from behind the table- still sitting down and she appears fully. She wheels herself around to face me, metal wheels squeaking ever so quietly and she seems so much more ancient than she is. On her left, part of her leg is missing, cut off just below the knee. And on the right, the same except, a little more calf is left over, so the stubs are uneven.

She can't even fight without crystals , I think to myself.

Her wheelchair squeaks some more and she turns away and begins to wheel herself towards the fire.

"I've lost much worst."

At first I think she means her legs - something I had never known about (which only furthers my belief that Talons would do just as well guarding her as Nightcrawlers seeing as she can't even walk) but then I see she's looking up at the mantle. Pictures I can't make out, and the metal thing in the middle glints still- dented and damaged beyond all repair- a shield, red and blue and silver, the image of hawk spreading out it's wings.

I turn away from the scene and walk towards the door. I mention to the Nightcrawler on the way out that the crystal shards have to be removed. Then I get on my Switchblade, my two body guards wordlessly following, and ride off back into the cold, cold air.

_She's not a Storm Hawk,_ I think to myself as I go. _Perhaps, she was once, but not now_. All the Storm hawks are dead now. She may alive, but the Storm Hawk spirit, the fight in her soul, is dead too now.

I rev the engine a little faster and leave the past behind me. Let the history stay where it is- I have the future to think of.

As I drive away I feel something in my throat- something that reaches deeper, into the core of my chest.

I cough.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you to my two only reviewers of this story, SmartKitty314 and smileyfacer. Two is more than I expected, although truthfully, I could be getting no reviews and I'd still continue. Don't let that stop you from reviewing though!**

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There are those in Cyclonia who still cling to the older ways- those who hold onto the days of impurity and chaos.

They complain that we've taken everything away from them. They say that they deserve _more, _when the truth is that Cyclonia has given them almost everything there is. All that is great was born from Cyclonia.

For example- we were the ones who first united Atmos.

Long, long ago, at the beginning of the Age of Discovery, there were no such things as crystal-weaponry, bi-planes or airships. Most terras lived in complete seclusion from the rest of the world, although there was those that were close enough to beware of each other's presence. Any flying transportation was very limited and crude and could not travel far distances at all.

Cyclonia changed all that. Even in the empire's infancy it was already a powerhouse teeming with knowledge and advancements.

Then came the doorway. You see, the door to the Fardside was first used by Cyclonia. We travelled to the Farside, discovered the secrets of crystal technology, and we brought it back to Atmos. From there, everything changed. We began reaching out to new terras, bringing knowledge with us. Many kingdoms saw us as a leader and quickly turned over the reins of control to us- in return they gained the benefits of our technology. Other terras became allies with us, willingly working together. For example, the engineers and scientists of Terra Nimbus and Cyclonian collaborated on the building of the first airship.

As generations passed, the empire grew larger and larger, till all the known Atmos was a part of Cyclonia. Then came the first real rebellion.

The Rex Gaurdians.

Honour, has always been their motto. They should have felt _honoured_ to be part of the Cyclonian realm. But there are always fools who twist their own minds into believing rank falsehoods- fool who tricked themselves into believing that they were better than everyone else. Fools who sought our technology but would not give anything for it. It was a simple enough deal: the crystal- powered machinery in trade for their allegiance. If they didn't want our allegiance then shouldn't have tried to steal our technology. We would have left them alone, let them carry on in their ignorant ways, but they just wouldn't let it be.

After that things began to get far more out of control. More of this so-called Knights of the Sky stood against us.

But they were defeated in the end and Cyclonia, like always, rose above. Today it continues to fly above the other terras keeping a watchful eye. Ironically, it was the retrieval of the doorway that once again brought prosperity to Cyclonia.

Every now and then though, another small upset occurs- a protest here, discontentment there.

But I know it's nothing all that important. Just the usual air pockets that jog the smooth flight of peace.

****

I stop briefly before the guards who stand outside my chamber door.

They salute.

"Long Live Cyclonia," they chant in time. I nod stoically, and they open the doors to my room.

As I pass I stop and glance at each guard, taking in their features. The one on the left looks familiar enough- young, male, dark green hair.

"What's your name son?" I say, though he can't be much younger than myself.

"Ch-Charlie J-Junior." he manages to stutter (guess he doesn't know I like to interview all my guards) and quickly adds, "Your highness!". He tries to salute again, but in his eagerness, hits himself in the face rather forcefully.

"At ease soldier," I say, rather disappointed. I prefer my Talons a little braver than that. "Tell me," I say to him, "why are you a Talon?"

Behind his thick red-tinted goggles he blinks in surprise.

"Because it is one the highest honours there is, to uh, serve the Empire."

I nod. I like that- he's doing this out of duty, loyalty to the state.

"Voluntary then?" I ask, in question, because many Talons are usually recruited at a very young age. Children who show promising warrior-like skills are found quickly and trained thoroughly to refine their gifts to the maximum.

"Yes," he replies. "My F-father was a Talon."

"Wonderful," I say. I can relate to the tradition of continuing family legacies, after all, my own role is one of family inheritance.

I turn to the Talon on my right. There's no calling him sonny. He's in his late forties at least, hair fading in colour, silver in the right light, but he's still strong by the looks of him. Lanky, but built up. His face is showing age, as well as familiarity in battle- there's more than one scar there. One of them, a jagged diagnol line, runs right through his left eye, making it completely useless.

He doesn't look at me till I address him.

"And you?"

"Revrac." he says impassively.

"And why," I ask, "Are you a Talon?"

He thinks for a moment.

"Because," he says breaking the quiet, "I made a promise to myself a long time ago." He stands a little straighter , a little higher. "I promised that, as long as I could move, I would never stop fighting for what I believed in."

I'm impressed with the statement, so I push it farther.

"And what is it, then, that you believe in?"

"_Justice." _he says the softly, with a harsh undertone_. What wrongs have been done against this man?, _I wonder to myself. None the less, I'm pleased with his answer.

I smile. "Carry on then," I say and enter my chambers. The heavy oak doors shut behind me.


	6. Chapter 6

I sit in my throne room, half asleep with boredom. I'm listening to today's reports, the last one from Terra Nord, so boring and long-winded I'm sorely tempted to have the officer removed just for wasting my time. I suppose it's not his fault entirely though, I'm simply rather restless today. My crystal research is proving slow and everything's been rather dreary of late. To add to misfortune, it seems I'm coming down with some illness. There's always a cough lurking somewhere in my throat. Cursed November flu.

So I'm here contemplating the expression 'bored to death', along with two Talons on either side of my throne. General Grun of Terra Wallop and General Spitow of Capital State Cyclonia who presides over the Talon regime here. Both have already delivered their reports, and neither one made me this irritated.

One of the double doors swings open rapidly, startling the officer and, thankfully, shuts him up.

"Sir!" announces the guard entering, urgency in his voice. He salutes briefly then continues. "We've captured an intruder on the premises."

"Really?" I say sitting up straighter. Finally, something to break the monotony.

"Yes. The intruder demands an audience with you Sir. But I believe their intentions are violent- they've bypassed our defences and have already taken down several soldiers."

A fighter huh?

"And where is this intruder now?" I ask.

"Er. Just outside the doors, Master. They agreed to come peacefully if we complied with their demand."

I frown for a moment.

"On any other day Soldier," I say slowly, "You would have been severely reprimanded for such actions- after all, we can't simply give in to every intruder's demand now can we? Very poor judgment on your part."

He cringes in fear.

"But," I add sighing, "Seeing as I'm in a good mood-" which is a lie. I'm bored- not happy. "I'll let it pass. Bring in the captive."

He nods, bows, the turns around and exits. After a pause both doors are opened, a Talon at each one, and a mass of guards come in pushing forward the intruder. It's easy to tell which one the intruder is- dressed almost completely in dented but shiny silver armour he stands out amongst the green and red guards. They march to the center of the throne room and throw the hand-tied captive down onto his knees, right on top of the Cyclonian insignia on the floor, forcing down his shoulders. The warrior shrugs them off.

I lean closer out of my seat at the curiously dressed intruder. He looks up from the ground.

He is a _she._

And _she _is a mess.

Choppy blond hair hangs out from under helmet. Her bangs stop just above the eyes. Her face is cut and there's blood running down from the slice on her cheek. Dirt, mud, and traces of more blood (hers or not hers I can't totally tell) are both dried and fresh on her suit. The suit itself, is scratched but remains polished shiny. Her eyes are a very colour, but I can't tell what from where I'm sitting.

But for such a light colour, the eyes are awfully angry - _defiant. _

She sits ups straight and tries to stand but the guards push her back down onto her knees. She glares at them through her peripheral vision then turns the death glare back on me.

"Guard," I say addressing the one who first entered. "Tell me what happened."

"She was flying in our air zone, and approached with out identification. We went into attack but she took down the first two flyers before landing. Somehow she made her way into the palace before we were able to capture her."

I look to the girl. "Is that what happened?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says casually. "Sounds about right. I kicked their butts."

"But now_ you _are captured." I point out. "So they have kicked your butt."

She shrugs. "Well I kind of got lost," she admits. "And then your guards ganged up."

"Indeed," I reply. "So then, where _were _you going?"

"Here." she says smiling. "That's why I let myself be captured. They brought me right to you."

I raise an eyebrow and notice a few Talons squirm (because they know they're trouble for falling for an enemy's plan).

"And why," I ask, "do you want to see _me?"_

She moves to stand up again, but the guard places a hard hand on her shoulder and stops her. She grinds her teeth then looks at me again and when she speak her voice is clear and bold.

" I have come to challenge you Corvus Corone Cyclonis. I have come to free Atmosia from your tyrannous rule."

Several guards start whispering, and I admit I'm surprised, though hardly threatened.

"And who are you," I ask, "to make such grand declarations?"

She moves to stand again and this time the guard doesn't put her down.

"I," she says loudly. "- am a SkyKnight!"

The throne room explodes in laughter. Howls erupt from everyone, including myself. It really is too funny. To actually be challenging me is preposterous enough, but to call one's self a _SkyKnight? _Madness, made all the more laughable by her seriousness.I was nearly doubling over in my throne.

You see, the reason that it's so laughable is that, SkyKnights _don't exist_ anymore. The last ones died years before I was even born, over twenty years ago. The word is so old- and Atmos too! Ancient names of things so long gone.

A cough presents itself, attracted by too much activity with the throat, but it merely mingles with my laughter. Finally, the howls die down, and I finish my cough-laugh and sigh heartily. The girl looks embarrassed but still stands strong, looking intently at me.

"Thank you," I say still grinning. "I really needed a laugh."

"_I'm not joking." _she states irritably, and some more Talons snort.

"Better to say you are now," I warn. "and suffer the lesser consequences."

"I _am _a SkyKnight," she announces.

"Oh really? " I say laughing again. "And who knighted you? Your teddy bear? Quit playing pretend _little girl. _There's more to being a SkyKnight than having some shiny armour."

"Oh I'm aware of that," she says. "And for your information, _your oh-so-highness_, I happen to be older than you."

I raise my nose. If she is older than it can't be by much. "You're still lower in the hierarchy than I." I respond.

"_Then why don't you step off your throne and we'll see how we measure up?"_

I twitch ever so slightly. She's starting to irk me this girl. She wants to challenge me? Fine. Her funeral.

" I accept." I say rising from my throne and grab hold of my staff. "Untie her hands, and give her weapon."

For a second she looks surprised, then serious. The guards do as I say and untie her hands and hand over her blade-, a long sword set with a yellow striker.

I step down from my throne and walk forward. The other Talons eagerly huddle back again the walls of the room.

"Your move fir-" I start to say, but she doesn't even wait. No witty remark or preliminary show of skill- just attacked like that.

_All action, no talk._

The blast she shoots crashes into the wall behind- which will undoubtedly have to be repaired. She leaps at me, blade raised and I block with my staff. She's physically strong too.

But I'm no weakling myself.

I thrust her back and then as she charges again, I smile, and raise my hand. A purple light flares up and she's caught frozen in mid-air, hovering, feet away from me, sword up. A violet aura surrounds her.

I pulled back my hand a little then thrust it out. She goes flying backwards and lands on the ground with a thud.

"Cheater!" she cries and she sounds so childish, crying out cheater as though we were kids playing a game of cards. "No crystal magic." She pulls herself up.

"Magic?" I laugh."It's hardly magic. It's a science."

"It's cheating," she insists. "Fight with a real weapon."

"Is my staff not a weapon?" I say.

"You know what I mean." and indeed I do. Afterall, not all my crystals are kept on my staff, and there's more than one crystal on my staff to begin with.

"You chose your weapon," I say referring to her physical duress and simple striker powered sword, "And I chose mine. It is not _my_ fault you chose poorly."

She yells then leaps up flipping, building up the energy in her sword and lets out another blast. I raise up staff and create an energy shield. The blast dissolves against it.

She goes in for the attack again, but I've decided I've had enough. I put out my hand and again the purple blast shoots out covering her the violet aura, freezing her movement. She struggles futilely against it. As I walk leisurely towards her, I twist the energy aura to make her drop her sword and then force her to her kneel.

She struggles against it, one hand on her knee, one on the ground and she looks up at me - not quite angry but more…subtly. I notice that, underneath all the armour, all the dirt and dried blood, she's actually rather pretty. Not pretty in the model sort of way- but I can see the intelligence in her eyes, a faint lavender-blue I can see now, watching me watch her. Despite the violet aura preventing her movement, she's coiled, ready to spring the moment I let slip control. There's a courage about her too, a boldness so many Talons sadly lack.

Such a shame she's fighting for the wrong side- a side I may add, that doesn't exist anymore.

"Guards," I say. "Confiscate her armour and weapon. Take her to the prison for interrgation later. I'd also recommend tying her up _first." _

"That's right," she mocks. "You won't even try to fight without your pretty rocks."

"You use a crystal in your sword." I say.

"I'd hardly say it's the same thing."

"And I hardly care what you think," I replyoffhandedly. The guards rush forward and start tying up her hands, another picks up her sword.

She narrows her eyes at me. "_Coward."_

"You do realize," I say grinning. "That you're most likely going to be put to death for this? With 'most likely' being a bit of a euthanism."

"Yeah." she says, ever so calmly. " And I'm going to insult you as much as I can before I am."

"You've got guts, I'll give you that." I look over to the gaurds and jut out my chin as to say 'go'. Even as they guide her away she keeps her head high.

The double doors shut and the chamber becomes quiet.

"Umm…Would you like me to continue my report, Master?" says the officer from Terra Nord, his nose-pinched voice breaking the quiet.

"No!" I jump then catch myself. "No. That's…not necessary. There are other things I need to attend to now. You are all dismissed."

The Generals salute then take leave. I turn to see the guard with the girl's sword standing near.

"Take it to my quarters," I demand, and he leaves to do so.

Finally the chamber is empty and I breath out deeply. The whole event will probably be in the news tomorrow, a warning to the rest of the world what happens to those who defy me, or try to fight me. Then again, what if it makes them think it's possible to defeat me? After all she did get into the palace and even made it all the way to my throne room. Or maybe it'll show them how impossible it is to defeat me. Either way, the publicity will be big. Nothing like this has happened in a long time.

Still, it beats listening to reports.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:Christmas present especially dedicated to my three reviewers, CheeseInACan67, SmartKitty314, and smileyfacer. Speaking of whom..**

**Smartkitty : You know too much. Though I won't say _how much._ But for now on I shall have to be a tad more vague...****enjoy anyways!**

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_I wake up to find I'm drowning in a desert. _

I cant breath, I'm choking, doubled up on my bed, sheets entagled all over me. I'm so hot, burning all over, and it feels like my lungs are full of sand. I'm trying to pull off the covers but they grab at my legs. I arch my body back and suck in a deep breath of air which lasts a second before my picky lungs toss it back out. I try to suck in another gasp and my throat makes a horrible noise that sounds and feels like sandpaper.

I cough and cough and finally free my self from the bed sheets. I stumble onto the floor and walk - no it's too urgent to be called a walk but it's certainly no run- to the balcony glass doors, whip them open and fling myself into the chilly night, gripping onto the lifelessly cold metal railing as I vomit air.

Finally, though, after half a minute I'm alright. My breathing stabilizes. Almost completely normal. Almost.

I stand there, surrounded by darkness. The cold starts to get to me, and I wonder that if I were to stand out here how long would it take for my sweat to freeze? A fluffy snowflake falls across my view. I look up.

A soft lilting army gently descends behind it. White dots on black. I hold out my hand and watch as a tiny delicate flake falls into my hands and melts quickly, its little crystallized form collapsing as the particles move away from each other.

Every night for the whole past week has been the same. Well, actually, they haven't been the same. Every night has been _worse. _The medicine I've been taking isn't helping. The cough is beginning to intervene with my daily work. And _that _cannot be allowed.

A few more snowflakes land in my outstretched hand. I crush them in my palm.

***

I change out of my sweat-drenched clothes and into some fresher ones. I grab my black cloak and wrap it lightly over my shoulders before grabbing my staff. Instead of hobbling over to the door, where the guards will be standing, I walk over to the large full length mirror by wardrobe. The mirror is a work of art. The frame is detailed, knobbly metal full of shapes and figures. The emblem of Cyclonia sits at the top. I touch a small vine like knob at the lower right side of the frame. The knob slides, clicks, and the whole mirror seems to pop. I pull on the knob and the mirror swings open revealing a dark hallway.

What can I say? I'm the inconspicuous type.

***

"Fix it."

I'm sitting in the pale white crystal light of a doctor's office. The room is so sterilized and clean. The marble floor is white. The walls are white, the cupboards are white and so is Renald's hair.

"Is the great Cyclonis broken?" he jokes washing his hands at the sink.

Renald T. Polytmus is one of my private doctors, and of all of them, he's the one I trust the most.

"_I'm _not broken," I reply. Broken has such a negative connation. "But _something_ inside me is."

He turns round and looks me over. "I'm a doctor. I heal; not fix."

"Then heal me." I say.

He pushes his round glasses up his nose. "Alright. Let see what's wrong."

We run tests. He takes blood and saliva samples, measures my heart rate and my breathing. Checks my eyes, ears, reflexes. By the end of it all I'm sitting on the black leather of the doctor's bench, shirtless, with a thermometer sitting in my mouth like a lollipop, making me feel like a five year old.

Renald is making notes in his file case.

When he's done he comes back over and takes the thermometer out of my mouth and records my temperature in my file.

"So," I say. "What is it?"

"Well," he says. "It appears to be the Dry Flu, but I'll have to run a couple more tests and process the samples to make sure. Probably have results in by the end of the week. Till then, take this-" he hands me a packet of some ground up leaves. "Take about two spoons and boil it with 4 cups of water and breathe in the fumes. Do that twice a day."

"Any effects? " I ask.

He laughs. "_Yes. _You'll feel better. If Dry Flu isn't the case, then this will have no effect on you. It's safe."

I look down at the tea bags.

Renald walks over to the counter and shuffles the papers together. I watch as he traces his hand along the bottom of the cupboards and clicks a hidden button. There is a very quiet pop heard. Renald bends down and opens the cupboards that are under the sink. At the back of the cup board he pulls down the plain wall paper that looks like paint to reveal an open square hole. He puts the files in there and, instead of rolling back up the wall paper, stands, and clicks the button under the top cupboards again. A door slides shut over the square opening. Renald then finishes sealing everything up.

You thought my health records were just kept in a locked drawer? I'm King of Cyclonia. You don't have the most intimate information about you just lying around.

"So what's the story?" Renald asks in a more serious tone.

"I'm going to go to my other doctors," I say, "And give them the most water downed version. A light cough that pops every once in a while. I'll make it seem like it's a cold. They'll know I'm sick by now- I had an attack during a General meeting yesterday. Couldn't hold it in. I had to call of the whole thing off. First an assaination attempt on my life now _this. _I've made certain that the papers won't publish anything, but news always gets out. There's too many rats up top."

"That's what you always say." says Renald.

"Yes, but it's true. My spies are reporting less. Some are disappearing. They're being bought over. Someone had to have lowered security so that girl could get in. Someone gave her information. We've already locked up her so-called squadron, but I know they had help. I've already got my sights on some of my officials."

"Ahh, that's right. The girl, the one who calls herself a SkyKnight. She bit Punt yesterday."

I can't help but smile. "Heard he deserved it." Punt has a bit of a reputation of a soldier.. "Did she say anything to you?"

Renald shakes his head. "She almost didn't let me clean up her wounds-Punt shouldn't be allowed to hold weapons if he's going to beat prisoners. She said I seemed nice- nicer than most Cyclonians. She doesn't have a very nice opinion of the empire."

"I can't help but wonder why," I say standing up and putting my shirt back on. "Suppose I'll just have to ask he myself."

"You're going to see her? At this hour? " he asks raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," I reply throwing on my cloak. "I can only rely on second hand interrogations so much. Besides," I add turning my back to him and picking up my staff, "I'm curious."

"You usually are, Corvus,"

I frown at him. "You know you're not suppose to call me that, Renald."

He closes his eyes and smiles. "Can't help it sometimes. I helped deliver you."

I roll my eyes. "Spare me the diaper stories."

He laughs aloud, and wrinkles fill up his old face. Shouldn't he be retiring soon? I can't imagine who'll be my doctor when that time comes.

"If you insist," he replies.

I half smile and head for the door.

"And by the way-"

I turn around. His face is serious, and yet , strangely amused.

"Rumours are going around. People are wondering when you're going to secure the lineage."

I cringe internally. "Already? It's a tad early I'd say. I'm only nineteen."

"They're just anxious that's all. Your mother waited late, thirty isn't a good child bearing age."

"I wouldn't worry," I say casually. "Old men can still have children."

"Just a warning," he says. "I've heard they're already match making."

I can't help but give a sigh of disgust, and I turn to go.

"Oh and Corvus-" I turn again. Why can't the old goat just tell me everything at once?

A pair of gloves come flying through the air and I catch them with my free hand.

"You might need those," he says. "She's got quite a set of jaws on her."

I grin.


	8. Chapter 8

**Well after I posted the last chap I stayed up real late and just wrote the whole interrogation scene and because I'm imprudent I'm just going to post it. Especially since you guys seem to already know what happens;) I don't really mind you foreshadowing or analyzing- I'm curious to know what you think. Do I hide hidden symbols and meanings in my work? I always remember dissecting novels/plays in English and thinking 'no writer actually goes through and puts all this stuff in their novel' (cause really, sometimes I swear the English teachers just make stuff up) but now (after more Shakespeare,) I have almost subconsciously started doing it. This story specifically.**

****** smiley facer: **I also haven't been getting mail from the site- the last time that happened (like last week) I opened up my email to find a huge backlog of late mail :P Also,** Your review wasn't long (I like long detailed reviews anyways). My author's note on the other hand is starting to stretch...**

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She's giving me the silent treatment.

I sit cross-legged across the cell leaning my back onto the hard grey walls. This section of the dungeons is relatively empty. I bathe in the faint red glow of crystal torches.

She sits at the farthest corner in her cell not even looking at me.

First rule of battle- never take your eyes of your opponent.

Actually that's not the first rule, but it's certainly one of them.

"It's rude you know, to ignore company."

Like talking to a brick wall. Except brick walls in Cyclonia are usually better maintained. There's a red scab over her forehead beneath her bangs and a new burn mark on her arm: Punt. She looks different without the armour on, sitting there in dirty brown rags (as if anyone as stubborn as her would be put on a prison uniform, though the guards will switch her clothes when they get the chance). Her hair is matted and cut short in a haphazard way. Her pale blue eyes look almost pinkish in the light.

I sigh melodramatically, "Well if you insist I do all the talking, Spaerrow."

She twitches ever slightly and her eyes swivel then move back.

_Spaerrow._ Even her name, like her appearance, is frail. A song bird's name is hardly fit as a warrior's title.

"Oh, yes," I go on. "I know your name. Spaerrow. Spelt with an 'E' after the 'A'. No doubt a tribute to Aerrow, of the Storm Hawks." I let that hang there for a moment before continuing.

"Your yellow Striker crystals and fighter plane signify that you were born on Terra Rex. Your weaponry and fair appearance tell me that you're related to the old SkyKnight Harrier. The mark on your upper right arm," a series of numbers and letters, "tell me that you're a mine worker, and confirm all my previous guesses."

Her eyes dart over a couple of times but then go back to resting on the wall. Her left hand moves to rest on her right arm, no doubt covering the black tattoo that gives everything about her away. All the mine workers are labelled in the same way. They have to be. Or else trouble like this occurs. See, everyone who works in a mine is either a rebel or a descendant of one. Dissent is in their blood. This girl is living proof.

"Grandfather Harrier." I muse. "He was one of the first SkyKnights to surrender during the Great Triumph. For that wise decision, a lot of lives were spared. You have your life to thank him for. Bringing ruin to his good name and trouble to your home isn't a very good way of showing appreciation."

Her teeth grind together. Her eyes narrow.

My tone and face become serious. "If you _don't_ co-operate then we'll have no choice but to use ulterior motives. A Skyknight is supposed to protect their terra- I'd hate to have anything horrible happen to Terra Rex."

"You can't prove I'm from there." she says, without moving one bit.

The silence is broken. I resist grinning and continue.

"I already have," I reply. "And frankly, _does it matter?_" My voice is low and my sore throat makes it slightly scratchy. " Does it matter what terra I choose to punish for your wrongs? It's only right that it should be Terra Rex, but would you let other people suffer because of your actions? Would you really-"

"_Shut up!"_ She shouts, "_ Just shut up!"_ She's up on her feet and braced for a fight as quick as a flash. "How _dare_ you lecture me on justice- on what's right! Letting innocent people suffer because of my actions? Like you really care you filthy hypocrite!" Her voice is loud and clear in the empty stone passages. " My family works in the mines all day long- we're forced to. We never got a choice. I wasn't even born during the Great Triumph. I, and hundreds like me, had nothing to do with the fight, with any of it, but because of what our parents did we have to suffer? How is that fair?"

Her sudden out burst catches me for a second but then I collect myself. "Your family, especially your family, has always been of trouble to Cyclonia. You are descendant of the first SkyKnight, Lysander*, and just this week you tried to assassinate me, ruler of New Cyclonia. You think you don't deserve punishment?"

"Maybe by your laws I do." she says. "But punish _me_- just me, and no one else. Leave the rest of the world alone."

"It's your own fault," I reply. "Your affections for your home are your weakness."

"Oh you mean _my humanity?"_ she mocks.

I frown. "Call it what you like. It's still a weakness."

"Well _sorry_ we all aren't as heartless as you."

I sigh and look down. "I'm _sorry _you see me that way. I can't help but wonder who's been twisting your view of the empire…"

"Well you'd know all about twisting views wouldn't you _Master?_ You and your propaganda poisoning the minds of everyone. If people knew the truth they'd -"

"They'd what?" I interrupt suddenly. "_Rebel? _Turn against the empire? Grab their weapons, abandon their jobs, to fight and kill? Start up another war? _Is that what you want?_ There is one truth, but those who are unsatisfied with it spread lies and rumours to create more dissatisfaction, so that in the resulting struggles they might gain power. That's the only thing that would happen if other people started feeding their lies and misconceptions into society- another power struggle. Peace would be broken. People would die. And I do care about that."

She snorts. "You don't care," she mutters, then turns away. "You don't even know."

"Then tell me."

She looks back at me. "People _are_ dieing. They're killed all the time by _your_ soldiers. You say this is peace? It's nothing but a facade. But who's going to catch you, right? You rule the entire Atmos. Maybe you're just so far up-top you don't see all the shit that falls to the bottom."

"I know everything that goes on in Atmos."

"Not from the bottom view up, Crystal-Boy."

"I keep a close eye on my soldiers. But bad seeds happen."

"_You just don't get it." _she says angrily, _" It's not a couple of bad seeds, it's the whole damn crop."_

I stand, faintly annoyed. "_My _empire_, my _army, is legendary. Cyclonia is not the big, bad, wolf you see it as, _little girl."_

"_I am _older than you, you know." she says gripping her fists tightly. "And I can kick your butt in a fair fight right here, right now, if you don't cut it out."

I laugh. She seems more childish than ever. A little toddler, all pouty and moody.

"I do believe we tried that already- and may I remind you, _I _won."

"That wasn't a _fair_ fight." she argues, bringing up my use of crystals again.

I shrug. "Perhaps another time." I reply. "I have other duties to attend to and I haven't even had breakfast yet, so if you don't mind," I give a brief bow, mockingly of course, I have no reason to bow to her, and begin to walk away.

"That's right," she taunts at the bars. "You can't even _talk_ about a fair fight, you coward."

I stop and turn. " You're not really in a position to insult me much now are you?"

She smiles mischievously. "I made a promise remember? 'As much as I can' before I'm shut away."

I close my eyes briefly and smile. This seems to perplex her. "Yes." I say lightly. "Yes you did."

I turn around and begin to walk away.

_"And by the way, your squadron says hi."_

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***Lysander is a character of Flame Soldier's 'Skies of Blood'. I mean, the name is briefly mentioned in the show but they don't specifically say he was the first SkyKnight, so it's kind of her character.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks to my sister, I am ever pronouncing it as Co-lo-nel. Not kernal. And when I say Colonel I mean it as a rank not the psycho-spider dude. Meh, can't say I liked this chapter....**

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Each terra is watched by a Colonel, who commands several Captains and their fleets. Each Colonel reports to a General. Each one is in charge of at least three terras or more (the more terras the higher their class).

All my Generals are present today. All twelve.

The long ebony table is lined on either side with them, and I sit at the head, my seat being grander, and raised a little higher than the other chairs.

"We should have them hung today! A public display of what happens to those who deny the rule of Cyclonia! We've waited too long as it is."

I absent-mindedly touch one of the empty metal niches where secondary crystals are placed. A little loose, perhaps some melding...?

"They should be _tortured-" _Insists another General, banging his fist on the table. "-in public a display. Let those rebels who rooted for them see what has become of their saviours!"

The conductive metal is burnt too. Should have known better. High grade Firebolts are so picky the damn things…

"Torture yes," says Spitow. "but not for the public. They're still withholding information about their accomplices. We need to be more forceful in our interrogations."

"Well, isn't that _your department?" _says General Merkus. _" _What has your Captain been doing?"

"He's been doing the best he can within the limits subjected to." says Spitow.

"_Limits subjected to?" _huffs, the General. _"_What_ limits?"_

I feel their eyes fall on me, but I don't bother to raise my head.

"Your highness?" General Spitow says, his voice less harsh when addressing me," Your thoughts on this?"

I run my finger along the length of my staff.

"A communal hanging, or anything like such, would merely make the public fear us. If anything, some people might be angered. Our detainees are very young, and, heh, stubborn. The more we tighten our grip", I hold up a fist, " the more they'll rebel." I open my hand. "And killing children never goes over well."

The Generals are quiet.

"They are intelligent warriors," I continue, looking at my staff. "but I fear they have been mislead. I think the best action for now would be to use…_ persuasion. _Tell Captain Rane to meet with me later to discuss interrogation methods."

"Yes sir," replies Spitow.

"As for who has been misleading them, a low key search on Terra Rex. Undercover agents should be on the look out for any other rebellious groups. General Sclaud?"

"It will be done sir," he replies.

"That's another thing I wanted to discuss with you. Where now is Colonel Cygnus?"

"I had him put in custody and my lieutenant, Lieutenant Phalaropa, is acting as temporary Colonel on the terra. I am sorry I ever installed him as colonel. I did not foresee his betrayal."

I look up_. "Was _the Colonel responsible for helping them?"

General Sclaud shifts in his seat. "We've assumed so."

"But have you any proof?" I ask.

"We've already found several soldiers who aided the rebels and allowed for them to escape off Terra Rex. They were working under Colonel Cygnus's commands."

"Hmmm..." is all I say and look back at my staff . "I think I shall take a trip to see the Colonel and these soldiers for myself then."

"Ahh….I'm afraid that's not possible sir."

I look at him. "And why _-cough_- not?"

"We've already taken the necessary precautions."

I narrow my eyes and clear my throat. "_Necessary precautions?"_

"They're dead sir. A regrettable action. I would have liked to have had them transferred here, but while visiting Terra Rex to investigate the assassination attempt they attacked my lieutenant and myself."

"The Colonel?" I ask.

"No solid connection sir to that attack."

I'm quiet for a moment. The Generals look at me expectantly.

"The fact that the Colonel's daughter was part of the assassination attempt is not enough to condemn him." I say, though if I wanted to, I could. "He and these so-called Rex Guardians will be furthered questioned. For now," I smile to myself, "they merit closer observation…"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks you guys for all your awsome reviews. Hope you like this chapter.**

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"_Unhand me! Where are you taking me ? Let me go!" _

She's blindfolded, crystal handcuffed, and dragged in by two guards, struggling violently. They throw her on her knees to the ground.

"_What are you doing?"_ she yells.

"Spaerrow," I say casually. "So nice of you to come by."

She tenses with recognition of my voice.

I look to the guards. "Remove the blindfold."

The guard moves forward to do so but she shifts out of his way. "No, please leave it on." she pretends to beg. "I'd rather stay blind than see his ugly mug."

"Come now Spaerrow, that's just hurtful."

The guards remove the blindfold anyways, then leave the room.

She stands, then looks suspiciously around. The wood floors. The high ceiling. The room is large and clear of anything. She looks behind her at the only door. Locked from the outside. Sunlight streams in from the high windows, the only light source. She has little means of escape.

It is empty, except for ourselves.

Her eyes finally rest on me and narrow suspiciously. For one thing I'm shirtless ( somebody, in an attempt to fight December's chill, has turned up the furnace). And secondly I'm holding her sword, admiring it's handiwork.

"It's a good sword," I say lightly touching the swan insignia. "But it doesn't suit you."

She doesn't reply.

"No," I continue. "You're more swift- this is too bulky."

"_Why _am I here?" she cuts to the point.

"Because," I say and take a pink-purple crystal out of my pocket and point it at her, blasting her before for she can react. She's shocked to find that crystal hand cuffs have disappeared and that I didn't disintegrate her. "I need to practice."

"_What?" _she says.

I smile and toss the sword at her. She catches it easily.

"You wanted a fair fight? Here it is." I spread out my arms. "Everyone else is too afraid to spar with me. I need _someone_ to practice with."

She looks at the sword and then at me. _"Fair?" _she asks, doubtfully.

My hands go to my sides. Strapped on each thigh is a long metal pole, with various metal attachments. Each is crystal tipped. I take them out of their sheaths and twirl then in my hands. A crystal staff cut into two. Each half can extend a further foot. The ends are specially designed to connect to form a full length staff. Each half can hold a number of crystals, but the niches inhibit it's ability to compress as much as Mother's staff. I grip each half in a hand. Lightweight but strong. Maximum manoeuvrability. A favourite of my inventions, though I rarely bring it out.

"Are these fair?" I ask.

She eyes me for a moment. " No other crystals?" she asks. There's plenty of other crystals. Pockets, shoes, although, compared to usual, I have a lot less on me.

"No other crystals." I lie smiling.

She holds her sword casually and gestures with the other hand, looking cynical. "And I'm to believe you'd actual give me the chance to kill you here and now in a fair fight with no one around to save your sorry hind?"

"Would you believe that I'm actual so confident that you won't beat me?"

"You think I can't?"

I take a fighting stance. "_Prove it."_

She frowns skeptically, and moves forward loosely holding her sword. She's not going to bother with this. She crouches to the ground and starts to put her sword down- _then springs. _She's fast, but I'm prepared. I dodge then twist around to throw a blast. She jumps aside and throws her own blast- bright yellow- but I dodge again. I try to remember that I can't use my usual crystals and instead fall into my fighting instincts. Crystal energy shots of yellow and purple disintegrate against the walls-specially designed to withstand the blasts. Our weapons meet. Again and again. I'm enjoying the adrenaline rush.

But I'm not her main target.

We land across from each other panting. Her eyes dart to the ceiling windows. Then back at me. She leaps and throws a energy blast as a distraction. I dodge it and I know what she's doing. I know that it's useless. She leaps again at the wall launching herself into the air. She throws a blast at one of the windows.

The windows are shielded. As her blast hits it the shields glow red and cancel it out. She lands back on the ground, looking at the window, teeth ground together.

"I'd clap if my hands if they were free. Shame it didn't work."

She looks at me and I can see the desperation in her eyes. She's realized she's trapped. That now she'll _have to _fight me. Her eyes dart to the window, to me, then the door behind me.

"Come now Spaerrow," I say smiling. "You wouldn't really try to escape. Your squadron's still here after all."

I jump at her but she raises her sword to defend. She holds me back. Our weapons scrap against each other. "_I came here alone." _she says through clenched teeth. She thrusts suddenly and I stumble back.

I sigh exasperatedly as we stand apart.

"They've already admitted it Spaerrow. You can't protect them anymore. So just worry about _yourself!" _On the last word I pull up my staff halves, wind my arms around and send an energy blast flying directly at her. She raises her sword to defend. The two connect and she goes flying backwards sliding on the ground.

"I told you…." she say weakly getting up and gripping her sword." I came here a-"

"Maggy. Tern. Gannet. Thrush. Iora. Sound familiar?"

Her eyebrows pulls together in frustration.

"_Don't you touch them." _Her words are rough and promisingly violent. She grips the sword with both hands and raises it.

I scoff. "Don't blame _me _if anything happens to them." I say bracing myself. "After all, _you_ brought them here. Recruiting fourteen year olds for your quest." I say distastefully. "_Mere children_. You accuse me of manipulating minds? Look how you've manipulate them." My voice changes to contain a tinge of false awe. "You've managed to turn the daughter of Terra Rex's Colonel against Cyclonia. Whatever happens to them now is your fault." I say, then declare, "You are their SkyKnight. You've led them to their death."

Her teeth grind together, like she's in pain. She closes her eyes for a moment as though holding back tears. I raise to strike her in that moment, she's let her guard down, but I hold- curiosity gets the better of me- I hold, and wait for her to speak.

"_I know."_

Two words overflowing with regret.

"_I told _them-," she continues eyes still clenched shut. "I told them I would do it alone, but…. I needed back up. We decided," she swallows. "That they would come with me to Cyclonia undercover, so in case something went wrong…" She laughs weakly, looking at the ground. _"It all went wrong."_

I can't argue against it. But it's odd. She's usually rebelliously stubborn. But standing there, lamenting…she looks so defeated. I mean, she is by all means, but only now does she seem to admit it.

"You are right." she says, straightening up.

And now she's admitting I'm right. Either she's about to slice my head off, or the guards have been slipping drugs into her food.

"I _have_ manipulated them. It _is_ _my fault _they're here. Which why I can only ask- no_, beg,"_ to my suprise she drops down onto one knee, sword point against the ground, "why I can only beg you, Master Cyclonis, that you punish _me_, and spare them. They're idiots really, stupid enough to follow me. In all honesty, they're like _pawns. _I just tricked them into serving the wrong master." She holds my gaze. "_Please."_

The room is quiet while I contemplate.

"I didn't come here to watch you beg."

She looks confused.

"You're not surrendering because you want to repent." I say irked. "You're not surrendering because you've actually seen the error of your ways. You're not bowing because you respect me. You're surrendering to protect _them_. To manipulate me." I say. "But see, _that doesn't work._ You can't offer yourself up, because I already have you."

Her submission turns bitter. "_What do you want then?"_

I smile. "_Answers. _For example, how did you know how to get into Cyclonia? The small break in our air defences, a little quirk. How did you know about it?"

She hesitates. "Promise to leave my squadron alone?"

"The more you co-operate the better their chances of not being executed."

She hesitates still, and smiles. "No. I don't trust you."

"I'm not asking for your trust, I'm asking for your honest answers."

She eyes me warily. A moment passes, then another. Finally she speaks. "There…there was this old man." she ventures. "He just looked like a homeless old man… but he told us how to get in. To Cyclonia. Like he knew what we were planning. He told us about the time gap between security switches. And the defective cannons on the east side."

"An old man?" I say disbelievingly. "He wouldn't have happened to have left his name now?"

"Wouldn't tell you if I knew it. It was...weird. He popped out of no where and just disappeared. I couldn't rat him out even if I wanted to."

"Convenient." I remark. "Where were you when this happened?"

"The terra below." she answers straight. " On Atmosia."

I half-smile. "Who helped you? Along the way?"

"No one." she says quickly. Too quickly in my opinion. "We hopped from Terra to Terra."

"What about on Terra Rex?"

"No one," she repeats. "None of our families even knew what we were planning."

"Really?" I ask. I don't believe that at all. Her family is currently being investigated on Terra Rex.

"Really," she insists. "They gave up the fight along time ago. You and your empire sucked it out of them."

She acts as though it is a bad thing to stop fighting. Does she want bloodshed to continue? "You've left a bit out." I say. "What about the soldiers who helped you?"

"What?"

"Your story so far coincides with your squadron members', but they told me a group of soldiers spotted them on Terra Rex. Possibly had been following you. But they let you get away."

Her face shows slight shock for a minute as she realizes I've already gotten the story from her squadron members. That I've been speaking to them as well as her, and that they've already spilled. Well, some of them spilled. She covers the shock quickly.

"They _attacked _us." she says. "The night we were supposed to leave. Gannet and Maggy-" the young ones I recall, "- were supposed to stay behind but the soldiers saw them with us, so we all had to leave. We almost never left the terra. Nobody _let _us get away. "

"Then how come your departure wasn't reported?"

"Wasn't it?" she asks.

I think about that. "Then whether you know it or not, Colonel Cygnus was helping you. He chose to keep the information of you escape secret."

But that doesn't explain the guards, and why they attacked General Sclaud and his lieutenant. They appeared to have been acting on their own commands. But perhaps Colonel Cygnus had ordered them to? To keep the secret safe?

"Please don't kill Colonel Cygnus." she begs. Again with the begging . It bothers me. "He was just trying to protect Maggy."

"If he really wanted to protect her he should've reported your plan. At least then he could have bargained for her life."

She grits her teeth. "Oh yes, bargaining with the devil."

I frown. "You've really got to get over this demonic image you have of me. Cyclonia is not the evil empire you see it as."

"And it isn't the paradise you think it is!" She shouts and the fight is suddenly back on as she blasts an energy ball. I roll to avoid, the blood pumping once again. It's harder the second time Exhaustion creeps in. I'm feeling awfully hot, but she doesn't look as affected.

Her blade comes down hard, but I cross my stalves over my head.

"So much for your surrender," I say, straining.

"And give up the chance of killing you?" she says. "Not a chance."

Offence and defence. Attack and repel. It goes on. With one stalf I hold off a blow, and using the other one go in for her midriff. She sees it coming and jumps back then launches into the air, flipping over my head, landing behind me. I twirl to meet the next blow, and, if her sword wasn't so bulky and big, she might have been quick enough to get me in back. But I'm quicker. The ends of my stalves are suddenly pointed at her chest will her sword is still raised in the air.

"I win." I say, trying not to gasp. My lungs feel faintly of sandpaper.

She leans back precariously. "Are you going to kill me now?" she asks calmly.

"If I killed all my sparring partners I'd have nobody to practice with."

The surprise on her face is amusing.

"You're not going to kill me?"

"Not right now," I say. "You still-_cough_- haven't told me everything."

"What makes you think I ever will?" she counters.

"Well, there's five reasons sitting in my prison cells, a sixth one being your family, and seventh being the whole of Terra Rex. And eighth…your own life." I pause for a second. "You can still repent you know. Bear your punishment, swear your allegiance. You'd make a good Talon."

She smiles derisively. "You might as well finish me off then." she says bitterly.

I narrow my eyes. Stubborn idiot.

"Fine," I say. "Seven reasons."

She bites her lip. She knows I have her there. She'll tell me everything to save her friends. But defeat doesn't go down easy. She'd rather die trying than slowly give in. I suppose that's why she suddenly slashed her sword.

I could have blasted her right there, close range would have killed her. But I don't. I leap out of the way, and throw energy blasts from afar. My breathing is heavy, and I'm sweating more than I think I should be. A couple coughs escape my throat.

_No, not here, not now._

I keep blasting but my throat feels inflamed. More coughs escape, my chest feels sore. My entire body shakes. I starts using one stalf only and reflexively cough into my other arm, focusing more on trying to clear the airways. It's impossible to breathe. I collapse on my knees covering my mouth with my hand, still gripping the other stalf. I glance over at her, predicting attack. She's frozen, staring wide-eyed in shock. I angle away. My throat demands my attention. Instinctively, my eyes shut and I turn away from her. I keep coughing, trying to take big breaths but it doesn't help. Finally, the coughing starts to subside, I can breathe normally, and I open my eyes.

There's blood on my hand. Some smaller drops on the floor. I stare at it, disbelievingly. This isn't dry flu. My stomach turns.

"What..?" she whispers still staring, eyes on the blood.

Embarrassment, and anger, runs through me. She's seen. She knows I'm sick. That I'm weak. She can use that against me. Without any real thought I raise out my clean hand, activating one of the purple crystals still hidden on me. Her form rises, glowing purple and before she can even register what's going on I slam her into the wall, knocking her unconscious. She falls limp to the floor.

My gaze pulls back to my hand. The blood splatter contrasts darkly against the white of my skin.

Dark red, almost purple. Like the colours of Cyclonia.


	11. Chapter 11

"Letum Posthumous "

I can't tell which is heavier; the air in the room or those words."You've double checked?" I ask.

He nods, looking more tired than usual. "It's definitely what you have."

"And _what_ is it, exactly?" I ask.

He sighs quietly. "To put it simply, it's a systemic breakdown of the lungs. Occasional bursting of the capillary beds in lungs causes alveolar haemorrhage. This is because cell renewal in the alveoli is inhibited or the new cells are mutated. The proteins responsible have only been studied limitedly because of the rarity of the disease. Malformed alveoli also inhibit intake of oxygen, leading to hypoxia and myocardial infarct." He pauses a moment, takes off his glasses and cleans them with his shirt. I take chance to translate everything he's said. Lungs bleeding, lack of oxygen and heart attack.

"The nature of L.P is strange though," he continues, " It seems to work in a tidal pattern of failure and repair, till what's called the flood stage moves in and repair of the lungs ceases."

I swallow that. It doesn't go down easy.

"And how do you treat it?" I ask calmly, the most relevant question.

Renald closes his eyes for a moment.

"You don't."

_You don't?_

"There is no cure, no medicine." He breathes in. "You can mask and manage symptoms but there's no radical. There's no cure."

_"Then I'll make a cure,"_ I immediately declare, without even trying to comprehend what he's said. I can find the research, the most intellectual doctors and scientists at my disposal. Already my mind is pouring over the crystals I could use.

Renald shakes his head slowly. "It's not something that you can fix Corvus."

"You're wrong," I reply assuredly. "All bacteria, all viruses can be fought. Can be killed. It's just a matter of-"

"It's genetic."

I stop. The veil of composure, reinforced by promises of a logical solution, cracks. "Genetic?" I ask quietly.

He nods solemnly. "I checked your karyotype. Twice with the new microscopes. All your symptoms correspond, except," his tone turn contemplative, "…_it's early. _Normally the disease doesn't actually activate till mid-twenties. I can't figure….." But his voice trails off. The extent of the situation starts to sink in. Something subtly shifts.

Genetic?

"How long?" I ask feeling light-headed.

Renald stops whatever he was saying, his face turns grave. "Four years."

Four years? I'm partially relieved. That gives me time to figure out how to fight this, but part of me wavers. I feel nauseous but I remind myself to keep calm. To think.

I think.

"But my Mother never had any disease. No one in my family line did. It's recessive then right? X linked or autosomal?" My mind moves quickly now. DNA is a new discovery for us, but I'm up to date. Many of the previous rulers were female and my grandfather died early in life so maybe the symptoms weren't recognized, as so may have been the case with other earlier rulers who knew nothing of this disease- so that would signify that it's the X chromosome. However it could be autosomal, simply passed down unnoticed all these years till the alleles -

"It's Y linked."

My train of thought becomes a train wreck. "What?" I ask.

"It's Y-linked. The gene is dominant, Y-linked."

Y-linked. Extremely rare. Even rarer because carriers usually die young before they can pass it on.

Y-linked. Only males carry the Y chromosome. Only males can pass it on.

I didn't get the disease from my mother.

I got it from my father.


	12. Chapter 12

I'm sleepless. Night after night for two straight weeks. Scouring the library, books, research, classified material ( nothing is classified to me). Reports of the faintest relevance are organized. I study, I formulate, I plan, I theorize.

But I don't think about it.

I don't think about dying, about death. I refuse to let myself even imagine for one second that I cannot conquer this. It's not even a matter of refusing to think about it- I simply don't.

Except…

When the eyes stare back.

Pale skin. Dark violet hair. All my mother's glory.

The damn eyes.

They were always a mystery, but one I had long ago tossed aside for all it's worthlessness.

Eyes speak when words fail. The eyes curse me. Laugh. Remind me that this disease isn't just some new project of mine, some other challenge to solve. Remind me that the importance of this project is my life. The life of Cyclonia.

The eyes narrow at me.

I hate him.

I can see it playing out in my mind. An insurgent, part of a rebel force. He's sick, he knows he's going to die. He goes undercover to Cyclonia, working his way to the top. The biological clock is ticking. Four hands.

He offers himself, or makes sure he is chosen, knowing full well the poison he bears. The Queen needs a heir. The deed is done. She is poisoned. He disappears, or dies from this disease.

A posthumous child is born, to die a posthumous death. Simultaneously taking out the empire.

One flaw with that plan: I refuse to die.

I was _meant_ to rule Cyclonia. Cyclonia was meant to rule. It is fate.

_Then why has fate brought this upon you?_

The SkyKnight's voice is in my head. A cynical, mocking voice, I imagine.

_If you'd been born a girl, then this wouldn't be an issue. If you're mother had born perhaps a few other children instead of waiting so long…_

Fate. I know it is with me. If not, then I'll defeat it too. Nothing will stop me.

I will not fall.

I shut my eyes, and grin, laughing back at my reflection.

My reflection? _His_ reflection.

For two reasons I hope he is alive. One so That I may take the cure from him. And two- so that I may have the pleasure of killing him myself.

The discovery of DNA is a new one, barely traversed. I'm about to walk all over it.

I gather the books, the papers, scientists and researchers, committing them to the top secret project. I select a variety of crystals to work on my own. The small green Nil crystal hangs around my neck. It helps, in some ways. Though, judging from it's prosperities, it shouldn't.

So many questions…

And I'm going to get answers.

I know where I need to go.

****

I leave with only one Nightcrawler in tow- considering my present condition I should really take more, but I don't want to. The fewer people who the better. Knowledge is power. I keep power to myself.

It's bitterly cold but snowless. An icy frost covers the dead terra. The tires slide as I land.

"Wait here," I say to both the Nightcrawler and the one at the door. He steps aside as I enter.

It's dark all over, except for that corner of light. The paper blue lanterns and fireplace where she is silhouetted. She turns slowly, moving the wheels on her chair.

"Well this is unexpected."

I approach bowing under the line of lanterns.

"I have some things to ask you."

She wheels herself to the table, dropped down to her height. I sit across.

"My Mother used to speak to you." I say. "She used to visit." I know this. I remember.

Piper nods.

"What did you talk about?"

She raises an eyebrow. "On what occasion?"

"Any occasion."

"There's a few to choose from."

"Start from the beginning." _Keep it to the point Corvus, _I tell myself. I can't afford to waste time with unimportant details. _Just ask her what you want to know._

What do I want to know?

She leans back. "The beginning's debatable too. What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

****


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Warning: This chapter is structured differently (and also very long). The regular prose is Piper (because she's mainly telling the story, except for the big chunk about Stork), the brackets is Corvus, and bold is third person. Then it switches back to Corvus' POV at the very end. Sorry if it gets confusing. Because its so long there's probably more mistakes than usual. Frankly, I should wait to post, but I need this out of my system.**

* * *

She saved me from a storm. I didn't know it was her then. She pretended to be a girl named Lark, and she befriended me. That was when I first met her, the _Master._

(A lark: 1. A common songbird. 2. A prank or amusing joke.)

(Her hands are folded on the table.)

She asked me to join her.

(She rests her chin on them.)

I didn't of course.

But that was the first time. Not as an enemy. As a friend.

("That was just a disguise.")

A disguise? Yes. A trick? Definitely. Was it all pretend?

No.

We fought many times after that. A rivalry grew. We were both masters of Crystal manipulation. Teachers to ourselves. The only of our sort.

We were alike, as much as I hated to admit it.

We were also alone. But at least I had my friends.

( Like my Mother would need a peanut gallery.)

Then came the Day of Exodus or so I was told that what it's called. When Cyclonia fell.

(The Day of Exodus; The day the Skyknights shot down the terra of Cyclonia without any regard for the number of ride-less people, soldiers, cadets, citizens and families on there. Luckily my Mother was always prepared- in advance she had acquired some Warp crystals and organized a series of Warp Stations for people to teleport away from the terra before it crashed. Most people got to the Warp Stations in time. Most. Not all. A black day in Cyclonia's history.)

Cyclonis fled to the Farside-

(She _lead_ you there.)

- and we followed her. We didn't know what we were getting into.

(You were so naïve.)

We were ambushed.

(Straight into the jaws of a shark.)

We should have been prepared.

(You weren't.)

Everything changed that day.

( The Day of Resurgence.)

(She stops and closes her eyes for a moment. Trying to remember? Or trying to forget? Over thirty years ago this all happened. Time only heals _clean_ wounds.)

The Krystallion warriors were like nothing we had fought. Their technology, their weapons, all of it far more advanced than those of the Nightcrawlers we had faced. The Nightcrawlers we faced that day.

(Her eyes narrow.)

And then Cyclonis herself.

( I imagine it. The green, darkening sky of the Farside, littered with stars. The Krystallion city in the distance. My Mother, a young teen empress- no, the image of her is older in my mind, sickened beyond her eyes- standing with a special reserve batch of Nightcrawlers and the Krystallion guard, their white skin, and the crystal facets glittering in whatever light shone. Nightcrawlers and Krystallions. Different in so many ways- except the way their eyes shone. Glowed of energy. Then the Storm Hawks entering through the purple portal, filled with wonder, and then- _fear_.)

They came down on us like rain.

(One storm you couldn't weather.)

And _lightning._

(Her voice turns wistful.)

But it was a clear night.

(Like the stars were mocking your pain.)

Full of chaos.

(I see it. The Condor skimming over the land. The battalion leaping into action. My Mother shoots down the Condor- the engine in flames. It groans. Descends. It crashes-)

-crashed into the rocks. We tried to get to our skimmers and fly out of there. But they had air forces too.

(Half-gliders of Nightcralwers, and the Krystallions on tamed winged- beasts.)

Finn got shot down, we couldn't leave him.

(Finn the sharpshooter who wasn't very sharp. Look what he cost you.)

Then Junko's ride went down with Stork.

( The un-human muscle and pilot.)

We were completely outnumbered, so we tried to surrender. The Krystallions put down their arms. The Cyclonians didn't.

So we fought back.

(Crystals blasts searing the darkness. Searing flesh. At least five specially-armed Nightcrawlers per person. Crystal-bolts blazing in different directions. Knuckle-busters busting everyone else. A mad Merb distraught over his ship. Blue plasma lightning on a clear night. A crystal mage probably doing most of the damage.)

Aerrow and I-

(Skyknight and crystal mage.)

-did the binding.

(She stops at this point. )

You know what the binding is, yes?

("Yes, of course I do. Don't be patronizing." I snap, feeling as though she's attacked me. I know what the binding is. I can't actually do it.)

Well, we got separated for a moment. I was swamped by Nightcrawlers. Cyclonis went after him.

(She stops again. Then continues.)

The Nightcrawlers were stronger. There were these tall rock outcroppings. Big things. They cracked them at the bases. Finn was standing in the wrong spot. There was a ridge behind him. I don't think he could see right either- there was blood on his face

(The crossbow suddenly stops firing, as he realizes the night is suddenly darker around him. He turns toward the falling column. Eyes widen, leans back. Too stunned to run. He raises his crossbow to fire at an enemy he cannot kill. It crushes-)

-crushed him.

The second pillar came down on me.

(I see her too. Younger, more like the photographs. I imagine her levitating, then, swept out of the air- terror twisting her features realizing suddenly her team mate isn't the only one in danger. The rock brings her down. She screams.)

It fell on my legs.

(Her voice becomes slightly amused.)

They were probably so crushed that four other Nil crystals like the one around your neck wouldn't fix them.

(I twitch and stop my hand from instinctively reaching up to my neck to touch the crystal. An obviousness hint to my ill-being. I grimace.)

Aerrow heard us- he got distracted.

('Piper!Finn!' He turns away from Cyclonis.)

I told him to look out. Cyclonis raised her staff. He blocked her, but she knocked one of his blades out of his hands.

(It skims across the rock.)

Junko was trying to lift the rock from the wall, trying to get to Finn.

(Whatever was left of him.)

- and Stork was trying to get to me. But without Finn and me there were too many Nightcrawlers to handle. I couldn't stop yelling.

(She stops speaking for a moment, looking off into the distance. The silence ceases the images, drying them up. The fire crackles.)

Junko went next.

(The images relights. A Wallop falls.)

And Stork was raging- I had never seen him fight like that before. I don't think I had ever seen him cry either. Still, there were too many. I think I heard Radarr somewhere in the fight -

(Radarr? Oh yes, the _pet.)_

-but I couldn't see him from where I was. But I could see Cyclonis. Some of the Krystallions were telling her to stop- that they had won. She said she had to finish it.

Aerrow was on the ground, crouched but wounded. Cyclonis wasn't perfect either.

I had to help him, but I was useless where I was. My crystal staff had been knocked away when I fell. Aerrow's blade was the closest thing.

(She reaches beneath the rock towards the deactivated blade. Inches from her fingers. She stretches. Her legs are in agony. If she can throw him the blade…)

I was able to get it-

(Her dark fingers curl around the handle.)

-but I was in no position to throw it.

(Then…?)

_("You didn't." I say.)_

It was a good thing really, the heat. It cauterized the wounds.

("You did it..._yourself?" _I ask. My face must betray my surprise. "But you'd be in incredible pain." )

(She smirks.)

I already was.

But losing anymore of my teammates- losing _him. _(She shakes her head.) _There are some pains I'd gladly suffer in the place of others._

(She grabs the blade. No one is paying her any attention in the chaos. Some things are harder to lose than others. Sits up. She activates the blade- her Skyknight's blade.)

I think Aerrow saw me at that point. But Cyclonis was coming at him hard. If I was free of the rock I could reach my staff and my crystals.

(And you would do the binding and beat Cyclonis. But then, if that had happened you wouldn't be telling this story, now would you?)

(The blue glow lights up her determined face. She raises the dagger, aims, shuts her eyes.)

I just wish I'd done it sooner.

(And stabs down.)

I told myself I wouldn't. I screamed anyways.

(Through, flesh and bone. Then the other leg. The searing blue plasma sealing the skin tight with a burning kiss.)

I didn't notice the pain then- that came later. I was focused on helping the others- Stork was unconscious or dead as far as I could tell and I realized at this point that most of the Nightcrawlers had been taken out too. The only ones still fighting were pinned against some rogue Krystallions.

I crawled for my staff.

( A young girl straggling across the remnants of a battlefield.)

Cyclonis and Aerrow weren't far. I'm not sure how Aerrow was still holding up. I was almost to my staff, they were just beyond it.

(She pulls herself forward and blearily, looks beyond her weapon, where the wine-red Queen stands over the broken Skyknight. The boy looks up from on his knees.)

'This is where it ends!' She yelled. She blasted him but he managed to dodge and suddenly _his_ blade was at _her_ throat-

(My own throat tightens.)

-and _her_ staff at _his _chest. He was crying. He said to stop, to surrender or accept their surrender- anything to stop this.

(Cyclonis, Empress of Cyclonia, and Aerrow, Skyknight of the Storm Hawks. Facing each other on the rocky clearing. The Condor burning. The ground stained with blood, that looks black in the night. A single blue blade below her neck, and her arms pulled back with her staff, the glowing tip of inches from his chest.)

_She knew he wouldn't kill her. _

(She thrusts the staff forward. 'No!' Piper screams from where she lays. The Skyknight crumples to his knees, staff still stuck into his chest forcing him to look up at Cyclonis. Teary green eyes of shock meet my mother's triumphant ones.)

I think she regretted it the instant it happened.

(The image shifts unexpectedly. My Mother's face is shocked now. Why should it be?)

I leapt for my staff and activated it, flying forward landing next to him. Cyclonis was still, but she moved out of the way.

(Violet eyes widen and she steps back taking out the staff. )

I caught him as he fell forward.

(Piper tosses aside her staff, her only means of protection from Cyclonis, and sits on the sides of what left of her legs. The Skyknight is bleeding, dying. She holds him.)

I told him to hang on . Begged him to live.

( She says looking down at the table.)

He smiled at me.

* * *

'_**Aerrow! Aerrow can you hear me? C'mon you're gonna be ok. Aerrow?'**_

_**Aerrow lifted a bit straighter so he could look at Piper. Her eyes were shiny and wet and searching his face so desperately. Not you too. Not you too…**_

_**His arms held her too, trying to keep his balance a bit and because he wanted someone to hold. Finn, Junko, Stork, Radarr. He hadn't seen all of it- he hoped they were alive, though part of him knew he was wrong, at least about some of them. He felt guilty knowing he had lead them there to this. Piper was shaking, and even in the blur of his last moments, he noticed her legs, or the lack of her legs.**_

_**He smiled at her. **_

_**She was so brave, smart, and wonderful- just like everyone on the team but in her own special way. She had binded with him. She had always been the person to talk to. He trusted her with pretty much every aspect of his life- especially his last bit of it. How was he supposed to fit all his thankfulness for her, for everything he had ever had into such a short final moment? So he did the only thing he could do to say it all. What he always did whenever he was thankful for everything.**_

_**He smiled. **_

_

* * *

_(She's quiet again. Longer this time.)

And then he was gone. I cried of course, I'd pretty much lost it by that moment. After a bit I looked up and Cyclonis was still standing there. I wanted to kill her.

(She looks up from the bloody corpse, eyes full of anger.)

But she was so.. frozen. So shaken. It surprised me. And then I just started sobbing again and stayed that way till Cyclonis got it together and started ordering anyone who was still alive to clean things up. I remember her voice quivering.

(I frown. That doesn't sound like my Mother at all. )

(Piper sits back in her chair.)

Then the battle for Atmos began.

*-*-*-*-*-*

After Gunstaff fell this place was emptied of crystals and I was sent to live here. Cyclonis didn't come to see for a long time after that. Occasionally to gloat I suppose, to demand answers. Then the issue with Stork came up.

(She raises her eyes to look at me.)

Do you know that story?

(I nod silently. I know more of it than she probably does. I know more of it than I wish I did.)

He was locked away in Cyclonia. Cyclonis told me she would keep him alive. If I ever tried anything, he was the bargaining chip, and vice versa…except…he didn't think I was alive. He thought we were all dead.

I suppose that' why…

(He had always been a little unstable.)

…he went mad.

(The first time a guard tried to give him his meal he almost killed him. Grabbed him through the bars and banged him against them. He bit the hands that fed, so all the soldiers on cell duty had to wear thick gloves. The first plates were glass and he would smash them in his cell and keep some of the pieces, so that guards who fell asleep watching him woke up (or didn't wake up) with glass shards in between their armour. He would rip up the mattress and used the fabric to make ropes he would use to strangle guards who weren't careful. He was transferred into a bare cell with nothing in it. During the transfer two of the soldiers had to be sent to the infirmary for life threatening injuries. This was the Storm Hawk who hid inside the ship whenever there was a battle.)

Cyclonis brought me to see him. Maybe I could calm him down. It wouldn't be so bad if not everyone was dead right? But he didn't think I was real. He thought I was just a hallucination.

* * *

"**The rock went boom- I saw it! Don't think you can fool me Cyclonis with your fancy crystals! Hehe." His eyes twitched almost constantly and he would pace back and forth in his cell for hours, while other times he would simply sit in the farthest corner whispering to himself. **

"**Stork, it's me. Piper. I'm real. I'm alive." She sat in a wheelchair in front of his cell, Cyclonis and some soldiers around. **

**He looked at her, his pupils tiny dots in widen yellow eyes. Cautiously, and timidly, so much like a child upon seeing a deceased parent, both frightened and anticipative, he reached out between the bars to her outstretched hand. Then he pulled it back suddenly. **

"**No! No! Can't fool me you Sky Siren!" He pointed his finger accusingly. He hid at the back of the cell for the next three hours.**

* * *

(I remembered being about thirteen or so and going into the library to look up some records. I started reading about the Storm Hawks and the Merb's profile.

_An intense inability to co-operate or remain calm for long periods of time…violent behaviour...hallucinations…extreme paranoia…refusal to eat…threats against the Master and all Cyclonians in general. _

I flipped the pages.

_..escaped one night and nearly made it to the Master's quarters before he was sedated. Nine guards had already been killed during this time.._

I remember reading this and shivering, thinking of a how close the maniac had come to fulfilling his threats. A single Nightcrawler guard was put on.

…_recorders were secretly placed outside the cell to record any other ramblings in hopes of diagnosing a treatment…_

In my fit of curiosity I sought out the recordings and listened to them. They never made much sense. Sometimes he would become so quiet I would forget that I was listening to the records and he would suddenly start screaming and startle me. I remember sitting in the library alone one night and listening to the last recording. At first there wasn't much, but then he started to ramble on again. The sound was that of quiet whispers and silence. Then, very harshly but clearly, I heard him say:

_I know you're listening. _

I jumped in my seat and looked around just to be sure it was the record.

_I knooow you can hear me. _

He had spotted the recording device, then I figured.

_Get out of my head, _he chanted. _Out of my mind!_

He _was_ out of his mind.

There was a pause and he started laughing. Not happy laughter mind you. Not really maniacal either. It's the laugh you get from someone who's in on a private joke. A snicker almost.

Quiet. The faint sound of movement.

_Bang!_

I jumped again in my chair.

_Bang!_

I tried to imagine what he was doing. Why was he whacking the bars? Or was it the Nightcrawler?

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

It went like that for a while. The bangs got farther apart.

_Bang!_

And then another noise like someone falling and the faintest splatter, followed the quiet scratchy noises of the record. I picked up my notes and to see if there was anything about this.

…_he was found the next morning in his cell, lying on the floor in his own blood. There were dents in the bar and it was deducted that he had cracked his skull open by bashing his head…_

_-_against the bars. That's what I had heard. The repeated banging of his head meeting metal. My body convulsed as I realized what I'd listening to.

_..The guard was nowhere to be found although there no was evidence of a fight between the two either. ………an autotopsy would be needed.)_

* * *

_**Doctors and investigators, Cyclonis and soldiers huddled outside the cell in the narrow hall. They murmured and whispered while the recorders were being extracted. Cyclonis was thinking that a message crystal might have better for keeping watch of the prisoner, and she was also thinking that Piper was going to be rather up-set about this. The Doctors gazed in side the cell. There was an obvious crack in the Merb's skull that was most likely the cause of death. He was pale, so he had probably been lying there bleeding for a good part of the night. The Doctor's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Something didn't look right.**_

"_**What's..?" he said. The others followed his gaze.**_

_**From the crack in his skull, something long and white and faceless wreathed and moved.**_

_**A tiny little worm squeezed out the crack and fell into the puddle of blood where it began to crawl slowly away.**_

Mind Worms.

(I had nightmares for a week.)

( I dreamt of waking up to the stare of the Merb leaning over my bedside, of him searching the corridors, looking to fulfill his thoughts of ending Cyclonis. I dreamt of little white worms writhing and the whispers of them in my head.)

(Piper sighs at this point.)

He was always talking about them you know. Ironic, I guess. The Doctors told me it was because his mind was unstable to begin with- that the loss of the team had weakened it and made it vulnerable.

(She looks down sadly and I notice her touch her bracelet affectionately.)

I wish I could have done something to help him.

* * *

I stand up now, and she looks at me.

"Thank you," I say stoically. Story time is over.

She asks if I found what I was looking for.

"Some of it," I lie. "But I'll leave the rest for another time."

She smiles sadly. I begin to walk away. "Call ahead next time," she calls out as I leave.

"I'll make tea."

******

I don't usually dream. That night I do. Both old dreams and new ones. I dream about the Storm Hawks. About the Merb pilot's words, writhing white worms, and the sound of banging against metal bars. I dream about the fight I imagined, only in my dream it's not a clear night but a stormy one. I dream myself into my mother's place, firing crystal blasts and fighting against Aerrow the SkyKnight. My staff rams into his chest and as his stunned green eyes turn to look up at me the lightning flashes and they're the lightest shade of blue.

_He is a she._

_Skyknight and crystal mage._

_Aerrow and Spaerrow._

_The damn eyes._

I don't touch my Mother's staff for the next two days.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Gah, sorry this took so long to drag out. The first part came easy and the rest was like molasses.**

* * *

"I bet this is the last thing people see before they die."

I'm inside bay 13, working on my ride. Not far, under the bike of one of the generals is Michal, one of the more prominent mechanics. The bike's front is lifted up high into the air on a bike jack.

"I bet you no one appreciates it either."

I half-smile, laying on a creeper underneath my own ride.

"Generals don't usually kill adversaries by crushing them with their bikes, Michal." I remark. "And most people aren't usual going to admire the workmanship of a Switchblade in their last moments of life."

"Or lack of." Michal replies distastefully. "General _Merk-wad _could at least clean her once in while." He wipes a clump of mud out of the metal work.

Michal isn't the only mechanic that has privilege to bay 13, but he's one of the very few. I've worked under my bike for almost five years alongside Michal- and he's the only one with enough nerve to talk to me let alone stay in the same room. After a couple of weeks working in silent recluse he figured out that I wasn't going to blast him for any word he said and the sentences started trickling out. I'm not sure why. Some weakling desire for social contact stemming from low self-esteem I suppose. I never said anything against it because, if anything, it helped lessen the monotony of my more drawling days and was actually, entertaining. He's my window to the rest of the world, a link to the citizens of Cyclonia. He knows his boundaries though. At least regarding me.

I slide out from under my ride and wipe my hands off with a rag. I hear Michals' voice echo from under General Merkus' switchblade.

"Ugh! This is atrocious!"

I stand up and look over at him and he wheels himself out from underneath and leans on one elbow.

"How 'bout a switch?" he cajoles.

I walk over leisurely.

"First of all Michal, noting how horrible the ride you have is, is not going to entice any one to trade with you. Secondly," I note stopping. "I'm the only one who touches my ride."

He dramatically gasps and clenches his fist to his heart. "Oh, why must you crush my desire to live!"

I smirk.

"The main reason I took this job, the most beautiful work of machinery around and all I can do is _look at it." _he complains, gesturing to my bike.

"That's a fair bit more than what most people get to do." I say.

He shakes his head defeatedly and slides back under the Switchblade muttering about Velocity and Nitro crystal thrust system, and triple steel layering.

I notice that among the scattered tools is a rolled up piece of paper. I bend and pick it up, unrolling it. An army poster.

A striking female fighter dressed in tight black clothes and short black hair caught in the wind stands with her back to the viewer. Her head is turned and her eye looks at me. In one hand she loosely holds a Talon staff. Her sky-ride, gold and black in design is laid out width ways behind her. To the left in the red sky, three distant Switchblades are in flight. The Cyclonia emblem shows up in background in gold yellow. The words in silver read out boldly: _Fight with the Cyclonian Armed Forces._

"Thinking about becoming a Talon?" I ask raising an eyebrow.

"Nah," he says pulling out from under the bike again, this time with flecks of mud embedded in his messy bright green hair. "I just got it for the babe on front. A Slip-Wing Switchblade cross. Just another in my long list of rides I'm not allowed to touch." he says then adds, "The girl's hot too."

"That _girl," _I remark, "happens to be Lieutenant Phalaropa. Which reminds me that I have to pay her visit today on Terra Rex." I let go of the bottom of the poster letting it curl back up.

"_Luc-ky." _he replies.

"Luck has little to do with it." I say, feeling rather unlucky. "It's work."

"Well see that hot-rod on the front?" he says. "If there's anything I'd like to work under, that's it."

I grimace.

"I'm going to walk away now and pretend that you were _only_ referring to the bike."

He laughs.

_

* * *

__I really don't want to see Lieutenant Phalaropa. _

The whole place had been dressed up and trimmed for my arrival. Soldiers line either side of the path.

"Long live Cyclonia," they chant in time. "Long live Cyclonia."

I walk forward, my Nightcrawler guard behind and in front. Lieutenant Phalaropa is at the front doors of the mansion. I step up the stairs to meet her. She bows on one knee, then looks up.

"Welcome Master Cyclonis."

_And the reason is this: She's a very talented crystal mage._

I nod stoically and she rises.

"Please come this way. I hope things will be to your liking."

_Too talented. Too much for comfort. _

She leads me into the main hall. Cyclonian shields and decorative weapons hang on the walls. As well as some old Rex Guardian artifacts.

_It's makes her a threat. Especially since she can do the binding._

"We only wish you'd given us more time to make better preparations. Forgive us if they seem weak."

_And I cannot._

_You can understand why I don't want to see her. She's a reminder of my failures._

"I'm not here for vacation Phalaropa, no need for pleasantries. I'd like to see the prisoner as soon as possible."

"Of course, Master Cyclonis," she says fluttering her eyelids. They're a shocking green, lined with gold eye shadow.

The jail on Terra Rex isn't far from the Colonel's mansion where I am but the Colonel isn't being kept there. In fact, the house already has a series of old cells in the basement . The Colonel is beneath my feet.

The guards open the old wood door that leads down the short set of stairs to the cellar. It creaks. I start to advance down then stop.

"Your presence will not be required," I say without tuning around.

The Lieutenant, who's been trailing me all this time, starts then silences herself and out of my peripheral I see her bow.

"Yes my liege," she says.

I continue down alone, the door shutting behind me. The cellar is dark and cold but not entirely unpleasant. It smells of dirt. My staff (my Mother's staff because I could only avoid it for so long before I told myself to toughen up) glows a light yellow. Cells that look more like large cages line the walls. All empty, except for one in the far left corner. Some lonely, hunched figure sits behind the vertical metal bars. I approach and he doesn't notice me till I'm right in front of the bars. He jumps, gasps startled and looks me up and down. I look him over too.

If he was once a colonel it doesn't show now. His shirt was probably once white but is now a mix of brown and black. His face is unshaven, dirty, his grey hair un-brushed. You can see he's been crying. Where trails of dirt have been washed away and smudged. It's his eyes that stand out. They're blue and jumpy. Skittish.

" Erol Cygnus," I say and he focuses on me.

"M-Master Cyclonis?" he asks, then suddenly, lets out a piecing wail, catching me off guard and throws himself in the ground in a sort of bow/ admission of defeat.

"Oh please , please," he wails. "Don't kill her, you can't let it happen. _Please."_

"Excuse me?" I say kneeling down because I can hardly understand his howling.

Suddenly his hands shoot out from behind the bars, curling fists into the fabric of my cloak and pulling my face close.

"Please," he begs again, and I can smell his rank breath. "Please don't harm her." He glances down and realizes he's holding me, letting go suddenly with a cry.

"Oh forgive me- no, forgive _her. _My apologies your highness." he shuffles back. "It's just that- oh I can't help it. _My daughter. My daughter."_

"Calm yourself, " I say a tad surprised by his distraught, and I wonder if it's merely an act. "Your daughter is safe now."

He visible relaxes. Then tenses at what I say next.

"She is however," I add nonchalantly observing my staff , though carefully watching for his reaction to everything I say, "-under serious scrutiny. She was, as you know by now, involved in an assassination attempt against my life. This cannot go over-looked."

"Oh yes, I know, but it wasn't her fault." he rushes. "Please, spare my daughter, Master. She's just a child. She didn't understand what she was doing." the his tine changes, tainted with accusation and his eyes narrow. " It was that _other _girl.", he says. "_The one from the mines. _Oh!" he sobs again. "She misled my daughter, I know it. My poor Maggy. Ever since her mother died…" he lets out another sob. "Please sire, please , give her another chance."

I run my finger against the cold metal of staff, as though admiring it's craftsmanship. I feel a shiver run up my spine and I turn away from it.

"That may be possible," I say and his face lights up, "but it requires co-operation on her part as well as yours."

"Yes," he agrees immediately. "Anything."

I repress a smile.

"Excellent. Then let's start with some answers. When did you first find out about your daughter's involvement with the rebels?"

"Not till it was in the newspapers." he says downcast, surprising me. "Well, actually, it wasn't till after I was arrested and I was told Maggy had been part of it. A couple months ago…she disappeared. Ran away from home. She'd been spending a lot of time with some other children from the mines…" his head hands down with shame and he shakes it. "I'd thought it was just some.. teenage phase. I never thought-"-sob-"-oh, I assure you my lord-" sob- "had I known, I would have stopped her- _all_ of them. But I never suspected…" He tries hard to swallow.

I frown.

"So, you never knew?" I ask disbelievingly.

He looks genuinely surprised by the question. _Looks._

"No," he says.

"Then what about the soldiers?" I ask.

The ex-colonel raises an eyebrow.

"Which soldiers?"

Hmmm.

Well that's interesting.

* * *

According to the ex-colonel Cygnus he never knew a single thing about the soldiers who spotted the rebels. According to him, those soldiers had never caused any trouble, and had always been rather upstanding.

According to General Sclaud and Lieutenant Phalaropa, the soldiers knew about the 'Rex Guardians' plan, and let them escape off the terra. According to them, when the soldiers were confronted about their involvement, they attacked the officers.

According to Spaerrow and her band of merry murderers (attempted murderers anyways) the soldiers attacked them when they left the terra.

So somebody is lying.

And it isn't Cygnus.

I'm standing in his room right now, Phalaropa anxiously at my heels, and holding a picture frame from the bedside table in my hand. His daughter. She's young in this picture. Ten maybe. Freckles, with frizzy golden blond hair and dark brown eyes. From what I've gathered from his belongings, and what I've heard from the staff, Cygnus loves his daughter. Overprotective at times, but he was not quite strict enough or suspicious enough to rein her in. If had known about the 'Rex Guardians' he would have never let her join.

Not to mention the scorn in his voice when he talks of the 'miner girl'.

So he's telling the truth I assume, although that doesn't tell me much. Only that he's not involved. Probably.

And it doesn't take much to make me figure that it's Spaerrow and her friends who are lying. If the soldiers were helping them, it would make perfect sense that she would tell me otherwise - another one her grandeur goody-two shoes Skyknight morals: _Don't let people who help you get in trouble for helping you, even though, if you knew they would only help you as long as they didn't get in trouble, you probably wouldn't like them because of their cowardice. _

I suppose it depends. I'll have to observe her reaction when I tell her they're dead. Or at least, that almost all of them are dead. She may not believe me but one of her 'squadron' probably will.

I put the frame back down on the table and note that the sun is setting. It makes the room seem too happy, cheery, for the lose of it's occupant mourning two stories below.

Lieutenant Phalaropa's eyes rest uncomfortably on back as I try to think.

"What was his name again? Of the one soldier who got away?" I ask.

"Rouen Huttengem, Master. He is the younger sibling of the other soldier Jacklyn."

"And you still haven't found him."

"No sir."

"Make sure it is done. And don't kill him either. He's the only source of information left now."

"Yes, Master."

I slip back deeply into thought. The boy's family is dead, so there's no way of using them to lure him out of the woodwork. Has he left the terra? Who last saw of him? Where? What is he doing now?

"Ummm…Master Cyclonis?"

I turn around to see Phalaropa step forward hesitantly.

"I can't help but note it is late." She holds a hand out towards the window then looks back. "Dinner will be served shortly in the dining hall, if you'd care to join me." Noticing my lack of inclination she adds exuberantly, "I'd be honoured, really."

There isn't much left for me to do on Terra Rex, all other evidence has been gathered, and detectives are already doing their fare share of work. If anything I'm aching to leave back to my room on the cruiser and get to work on putting the pieces together, or at least, sleep. But I cave instead.

"I suppose I could." I say and a smile spreads over her face.

"Wonderful," she coos. "I shall meet you there then."

*-*-*

The humming of the ship is melodic and quiet. A gentle thrumming through the vessel. I'm working at my desk, some crystals assembled, though I'm not particularly focused on them. I'm thinking about Phalaropa and her strange behaviour.

When I had arrived she had changed into a long sparkling black dress with a slit up the side, while her staff remained strapped to her back. She made a few attempts at conversation, though I suppose I'm not exactly a 'good guest'. At one point she brought up crystal energies and the binding - trying to be modest, she asked if perhaps I could teach her sometime the more advanced methods.

"Another time perhaps," I replied, knowing that there not be another time. She continued with that subject for a bit then switched to the topic of the rebels. I couldn't quite understand what she was after, why she was trying to converse.

I carefully turn up the heat on the burner, and a tiny blue flame burns steadily below the crystal.

Not only did Phalaropa appear to be tripping over herself, in the way most lower officials did in my presence, but she had also acted quite…odd. Like someone not use to having to work so hard to impress others. Like someone…

I let out a laugh suddenly and push my goggles from head. The laugh mixes with a cough, but I still manage to smile.

I finally figure it out. She was…what's the word Michal always uses?

Oh yes that's right.

_Hitting on me._

_

* * *

  
_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Short chapter but the next one's a biggie**

* * *

"How are feeling?"

"Worse."

I'm sitting in Dr. Polytmus' office, while Renald is going through my test results again, comparing them to my old ones. He flips through a few pages on his clipboard. He sighs.

"I have no idea what to tell you."

"The truth works best for me."

He turns and puts down the clipboard on the desk.

"Well, it's Letum Posthumous, but …it seems to be something else too. Like you're sick on top of that. For one thing I still can't figure why it's started so _early_. You really shouldn't be effected till several years from now. The only explanation I can think of is some crystal you might have been exposed to, or perhaps the amount of crystal radiation as a whole has sped up the process, but really...there's not enough research on the effects of crystal radiation on DNA to make any real guesses…other that that your immune system is quite weak right now, and you seem to have what's probably the 'Common flu'."

"So…basically, I'm just sick?" I say.

He nods. "Ill in the sense of the word." Then he looks curiously at me. "Is the Nil crystal helping?"

I remember the weight of the tiny green gem on my chest.

"I should think it is. I tried to take it off to experiment with a little- I wanted to use an enhancer stone on it, but within the hour, I was ready to faint. So it's helping. Slowing it down at least. I'm waking up a lot more though."

He nods his head again. "Slowing but not fixing. Or not fixing fast enough. Best I can do at this point is give you some medicine for the flu, but aside from that…I'm afraid I haven't made much progress with any antidotes for the L.P. " I guess he expects me to be angry, but I just nod. It's not as if any of my own research is making much progress, nor the team of doctors and scientists I have working on it.

Renald turns away, picking up his clipboard again, and scanning the pages.

"Renald?" I ask.

He looks at me. "Yes?"

"Do you…know who my father was?"

Renald looks at me for a moment.

"No. I don't."

I nod. If he had known he would have told me, but it was worth a shot, considering he was there when I was born.

"Do you think anyone would know?" I ask.

"Well," he says slowly. "There might be one person. I assume you already know about her though. Piper, I think her name is. She might know."

I nod again in apprehension. "Yes. I've already spoken with her. That's where I plan on going again."

Renald looks inquisitive but he doesn't ask anything.

"If that's all then Renald," I say and stand, ready to leave. I have so much more work to do. I always have work to do.

"There is one more issue." he says and our eyes meet. His voice drops to a whisper. "_Someone's been trying to get into my files_. Someone out there wants to know why you're sick and I doubt they have your best interest in mind. I hear footsteps in the alleyways."

I let out an aggravated sigh. It's no surprise, but it's a inconstant worry. "They're everywhere Renald." I say glaring into the white floors. "The footsteps are in the halls and in the courts and in our closets. Things aren't being reported to me. Somewhere along the way the line's been cut. A lot of my top generals were serving before I came to power, so who knows how long this has been sitting in the woodwork. There are Termites in Cyclonia."

He leans back against the cabinets and they creak. "I'd tell you you're paranoid again but I'm starting to believe it myself."

"The best I can do for is have a Nightcrawler guard put on for you. If he's any good, you won't even notice him. Hopefully whoever else is tailing you won't either."

"Yes," groans Renald. "_Another_ person following me. It might not be a good idea. If the spy does notice the Nightcrawler he'll wonder why he's protecting me and figure you have something to hide. Leave it alone a few days. He's already fallen for the decoy files and once he realizes there's nothing to find, he'll lose interest. You should check with the other Doctors- see if they're being tailed as well."

I'm quiet for a moment as I think it over.

"Yes, you're right." I say. "I'll do that." And with that I'm gone.

Which isn't actually true. I'm going to keep a Nightcrawler sentinel on him. By the time the spy realizes that there is something to hide, he'll be locked up in a interrogation room before he can _blink. _But I don't tell Renald that.

I don't tell people a lot of things.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Sorry if the italics sometimes get confusing.**

**Audio choice: Forgotten September - Two Steps From Hell**

* * *

A fine, thin layer of snow covers the mounds. Four of them in a row, marked by five little hedge stones, with the symbol of a hawk opening it's wings, flying upward like the soul leaving it's body, carved into the stone below a name.

The wind is cold, but I guess that's suitable.

"What about Finn?" I ask, eyeing the fifth headstone, no mound below it.

"They never lifted the rock that fell on him…wouldn't have been much to bury."

Piper sits in her wheel chair, wearing a dark shawl around her shoulders.

"I know it's been a long time…" she says. "But it still aches." She looks out at the stones. "They were my family."

I don't know what to say to that. So I don't say anything.

The wind is cold. Too cold.

I assume my Mother let the bodies be buried here so Piper could be close to them. It's not like she could visit anywhere else.

"I miss them so much." she says, and her vision rests on one grave in particular. A small smile plays on her lips. "He always believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself."

I eye the grave.

How young is too young to die? He was younger than me. But I…I feel old. But I'm not ready to die yet either.

I clear my throat uncomfortably, "Was he…were you…" The words tumble out awkwardly. "…special…to each other?"

She looks at me briefly for a moment then back to the graves.

"They were all special," she says, "But I know what you mean." Her head tilts curiously to the side, and she smiles sadly.

"No," she says answering my question. "But I think...we would have been."

_What would have been…_

There is another gust. The wind is cold.

People say you get use to the cold, but you don't- you just become too numb to notice it.

Piper begins to move and the metal wheels creak as she turns to me. She smiles, and there is a small fire flickering in her eyes.

"How bout we go see if the tea is ready?"

*-*-*-*

"So where did we leave off?" she asks, sitting across from me, mug in hand, the candles burning. A wispy breeze worms it's way through the room, in and out through cracks in the walls.

"With Stork," I say and suppress a shiver, curling my hands around the cup of tea hoping to adsorb some of it's heat, slightly cursing myself for leaving my Heat crystal in my Mother's staff and not with the stalves I brought.

She nods then takes a sip from her mug.

"There wasn't much after that." she says. "Cyclonis didn't visit for a couple years or so…busy taking over the Atmos I guess. But she would come by every so often, about a crystal, information she wanted. It was like that at first. Then, as years passed, visits were more frequent, less….like interrogations. Sometimes she came to me merely to ask advice… and simply…to talk."

I scoff.

"You don't believe me?" She asks.

I smile derisively. "Hardly."

"Huh," she laughs near inaudibly. "Neither did I. She was Master Cyclonis after all. Why try to be friends with me? After all that had happened?"

"_Friends?" _I jeer. "You were _her enemy_. _Arch_ enemy. She was not your friend." I let out a quiet, bitter laugh, but as I inhale the air is tangled in my throat setting off a coughing fit. The slightest thing sets it off now. I cough into my arm, then pull out a handkerchief, stifling the noise till my air ways are clear.

Piper looks at me concernedly, taking in all my features.

"Sorry," I say putting on another false smile. "There's a virus going around. I'd keep your distance. It's catching."

Piper's eyes search around my face and to my bloodied handkerchief. A moment passes, before she speaks, in a calm, clear voice.

"How old are you Corvus?"

My smiles disappears. When someone throws a coughing fit, expelling blood like I did, you do not suddenly become interested in that person's age. It's irrelevant. Except…

"Nineteen."

She's taken aback.

And that gives her away.

"I know," I say, acid dripping off my amusement . "Too young isn't it?"

Her eyes narrow. "What do you know?"

"What do _I_ know?" I mirror, anger rising. "_What do _you _know?"_

Our eyes meet, driving our stares into each other. Neither angry nor fearful. Simply obstinate. She gives, but doesn't look away.

"You've heard of the Dark Ace, I'm sure."

The staring contest breaks as I jump back.

"The Dark Ace?" I say. "What does he have to do with anything? He's been dead for over thirty years."

"He played an important part in all this you know. Your life." says Piper.

"You'd don't mean...?" I say disbelievingly. The man had been close to my Mother, but surely not- he had practically been twice her age and dead long before I…

"Oh no_, no_," says Piper acting as surprised as me catching my drift. "Nothing like that. But he's where it starts. Well, with his death anyways. You know how the Dark Ace died?"

I nod. "It was on the Day of Exodus, wasn't it? The battle to begin all battles…"

"Yes," says Piper. "Aerrow and I were using the Binding against Cyclonis and the Dark Ace."

"_Inferno's Blaze!" The empress shot a ray of yellow-orange light into the Talon's body. His hands filled with flames. _

_Crash and burn._

_The crystal mage slipped down further the battlement._

"_Piper!"_

"_Lightning Strike!" she shouted weakly holding a green crystal. "Lightning Strike…"_

_You lasted longer than expected…_

" We were losing at first, but then…"

_I'm so sorry…_

…_..If we gotta go down...at least were going down together…_

"- the tides changed and we began to get the upper hand with the Perfect Attunement."

_I thought you said…_

…_That's not suppose to….only…_

_Do something you arrogant-!_

"Cyclonis...she tried to bind the Dark Ace with this huge crystal from the Farside but…" Piper shakes her head. "It was too much energy. Cyclonis wouldn't stop."

_There's **nothing**, I can't bind to my will!_

"It was his own fault though," I interrupt. "He was the one who demanded 'more'."

Piper looks down at her mug. "Yes, that's the story most people go by. His own greed …that was what Cyclonis tried to tell herself in the beginning." She looks up at me. "But her opinion started to change over time."

I raise an eyebrow.

"The Dark Ace was the only one close enough to Cyclonis to do the Binding. It takes a connection to perform it." She looks right into my eyes. "_Trust. _She had known him almost all her life_. _He was more loyal than her other Commanders. In a way, I think they were a bit like brother and sister. They didn't trust each other enough for Perfect Attunement, but since Cyclonis knew so much more about the other form of Binding she didn't have a problem."

"_Leave us," Cyclonic hissed to the guards and they eagerly retreated outside. Seconds after they disappeared, her commanding and impatient form flickered and died like paper not yet burning, but shriveling from proximity to the flame. She seemed to crumple inward and collapse upon herself as she reached for a chair. She looked up at Piper across from her, violet eyes shaky, and hid her face quickly._

"I think she must have loved him...in a way. That's how I think the Binding works to a degree. Trust and love, as cheesy as might perceive it as." Her smile fades and she leans back. "In the end…"

"_I can't do this Piper," the Empress said, voice cracking. Despite her youth, she didn't look at all vibrant like many girls in their prime years did. Her long raven-coloured hair was tied back, but wisps of it slipped out of place and over her pale, drained face. Her eyes said she hadn't been sleeping and it looked as though she'd improperly been doing the Binding. "I just can't anymore…"_

"She blamed herself."

"But it wasn't her-"

Piper holds up a hand silencing me.

"No," she says. "It wasn't entirely. But it began to eat her up all the same. I began to see that…deep down, she'd been hurting like me all this time."

I don't like the way Piper talks about my Mother. With pity. Like she was weak, and not the great Queen she was.

"There was one night...that really marked the change in us…"

_Cyclonis had been quiet for a while now, sitting across from Piper. She had come at a most ungodly hour, a single escort standing out in the cold storm raging. Piper figured it was something important, but Cyclonis had been ominously silent. After some time, from staring down at the floor she let out a deep breath and swallowed, as though the one motion was not enough to rid her anxiousness. _

"_Piper…?"_

"_Yes, Cyclonis..?"_

_The empress took in a shuttering breath, and it looked as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders ( and perhaps it was) with all the effort it took to raise her head._

"_I am so sorry."_

_And suddenly, whatever supports had been weakly holding her up inside snapped, and the weight of the world crushed her to the table, and the tears that had been creeping their way out for years burst from the broken remains that had housed them._

"_I am...so , so sorry."_

"She came to me to confess…."

"_I killed them Piper. Oh god, I killed them. I'd always let you all slip before…I always let you get away. 'I could have', I told myself, so 'why didn't I do it sooner?'. With generals or enemies I was never strong enough to issue the deat-…_Andthat_ time, all I could think was , 'I can't be the weak one, I can't be the weak one. The whole Cyclonian lineage…', and Cyclonia had already fallen and I was desperate. 'I can't fail,' I thought. And the Dark Ace was dead and I was scared. You all followed me to the Farside. Then there was Aerrow, and the Dark Ace always fought Aerrow, and that made me angry because it just made me think…"_

_She stopped her wayward paragraph mingled with sobs , and she gulped down another panicked burst._

"_And then I…and he was just…"_

_The lightening and thunder were simultaneous in a loud crack over head, illuminating and casting shadows already there on the Master's pale face. Like the storm that had should have been there _that _night, the guilt and sadness had finally caught up with her._

"_..shocked." She finished weakly. Her hands slithered up from the table and covered her face as the sobs took over once more._

"I don't think she had ever killed anyone before then. Banished? Yes. Tortured? Sure. But murdered? With her own hands? It was nothing any of us had ever had to do before. I know that may seem unbelievable, fighting in a war, but we never had to. Never really confronted it."

_Piper was near frozen watching the Cyclonian empress break down. It took her a moment to make her arms work, rolling the wheels on her chair. At first Cyclonis thought she was leaving- she didn't blame her, but then there she was , the only friend she had ever had, sitting in her chair right besides her (a chair she had put her in!) and a chocolaty hand on her shoulder, and empathy in her face._

_And that face… _

_Cyclonis slid from her seat falling onto ground, crying into Piper's lap as the girl tried to hug her. Cyclonis sobbed, guilt rising as she noticed for the thousandth time the stubs of Piper's legs. _

"_Shhhh," Piper hushed tears tingling in her eyes. She tried to hide her face in Cyclonis black, violet hair. "Shhh, it's okay." But it was not okay._

_Cyclonis swallowed couple of times but did not dare look up from Piper's lap._

"_Will…will you ever forgive me?"_

_Piper blinked a few times in surprise. She realized that she had never really given much thought about it…and that was because…_

"_I already have."_

"I told her I didn't hate her. For what she did…hate is never good."

Piper sighs and I feel like a metal sheet being poured on. The drops just roll right off but I can't bring myself to absorb them.

"Hate," Piper says again, her bottom lip sticking out. "I didn't hate her, but she kept hating herself."

Buckets of water just sliding off and over…

"She couldn't forgive herself. It seemed she had more a conscious than I had ever credited her." Piper frowns, looking down at the table ashamedly.

I mean to ask where she's going with this, but I bite my tongue holding back the question, waiting patiently for the rest of this to spill. Drip, by drip, by bucket…

"Everything she'd ever done, all she was doing to take over Atmos. I asked her, if she didn't like it, why didn't she stop? But she said there was no stopping. That she had to, no matter what it did to her. That it was her duty."

I can't help but nod to this. It's the truth.

"So it just went on, eating her up." Piper sighs and looks into her tea, attentively taking a sip and grimaces. Probably starting to chill. "That's how it was for some time. After a while, she seemed...well not better emotionally, but physically. Like the Binding wasn't draining her anymore. "

"_You look well." said Piper_

_Cyclonis nodded a faint smile on her lips. "I've finally got the Binding right."_

_A look of curiosity crossed Piper's face. "How so..?"_

_Cyclonis shrugged. "A better partner that's all."_

_Piper looked surprised, then she smiled knowingly. "I take it that man...the one you always come with…"_

"_He's naïve," commented Cyclonis without successfully sounding derisive. "A champion though, perhaps even better then…well, he's good anyways. Foolishly loyal. Like a child…" And she slipped back into a frown, and she sighed. "I don't know what to do with him."_

"She said she'd found a new fighter. Cyclonia's best warrior."

My stomach turns unpleasantly at this.

Another, more annoying faint smile plays on Piper's words. "He was two years her junior, you know."

_I really don't give a damn. _

"I could tell she cared, perhaps more than she wished she did. He was good for her. Someone to hold on to. But then…" her smile drains, and I know what's coming next.

"He got sick."

I have to bite my tongue hard now. I'm not sure how much more fiction I can take. And I don't mean the 'sick' part.

"The disease was nearly unheard of. Extremely rare. Even with the best doctors privately treating him, he still worsened. And so did Cyclonis. All the meanwhile she was under a lot of pressure to produce an heir...except," and Piper averts her gaze unable to look at me anymore. "She told me she didn't want any children. It went on like this for years and everything was just building up, and then…he died. After almost four years exact. And Cyclonis…that was even odder. She almost didn't seem too upset. A couple week later, she began to show."

Piper's quiet now, the story vaguely finished. "It's a shame you never knew your father," she says and my skin prickles. "I did meet him a few times. He was a good man, though seemed more a boy in some ways. Mature, but naïve, and loyal like Cyclonis said. A good man all the same."

"_That, is one lie too many."_

She's taken off guard by my venom. "I don't know what you mean," she says.

"You make it sound as if she loved him," I snarl. "As if _he_ loved her. 'A shame I never knew him,'" I mock. "If he were alive I'd kill him for what he's done. Or maybe you don't know. Or maybe you do. Maybe you were a part of it."

She looks confusedly at me.

"Oh come now Piper, don't play games." I hiss, but keeping my temper in check." The disease that man had? _Letum Posthumous. _A genetic trait passed on only to males. I wonder if you were in league with him. You say you felt no spite towards Cyclonis but that could very well be a lie. He _purposefully _made sure he was the father, so that, _with luck_, if a boy was born he would carry on the disease, and like father like son, _die of it." _I glare right at her. "And what do you know, almost twenty years down the road and all that sucking up to my Mother is paying off."

"Is that what you think happened?" she says after second, voice a whisper.

I scoff. "It's what I know."

Piper shakes her head. "No Corvus, you're wrong," And I suddenly wonder how she knows my first name. "It didn't happen like that. I don't think your father ever knew Cyclonis was pregnant. He never even knew what he was sick with."

My eyes widen. Another drop on the sheet of metal, but this one isn't made of water. "He didn't?" I ask, though I have no reason to believe her.

"No," said Piper. "The doctors were forbidden from telling him. Well, _doctor _really. It got to the point where the others were useless. The one though, he was a kind man, Ronald, or Renald or something like that-"

A freezing chill stiffens my entire body, followed by an immediate angry hotness.

_That goddamn liar…_

"_- _he wanted to tell him, but Cyclonis forbade it-"

Another slap in the face. The water pouring on the metal sheet is suddenly sharp, icy daggers of hail stinging the exterior.

"_She…she knew?"_

The water seeps into the crevasses of my metal sheet and freezes, forcing them wider.

"Yes," says Piper. "She knew about the disease."

_Crack_.

"_Then why the HELL did she do it?!" _I yell, standing up. "You're telling me, she knew that her child might get the disease? Would _die_ because of it and _she took that chance? _She risked the whole future of Cyclonia! _So why the hell did she do it?" _

Piper doesn't seemed at all fazed by my yelling. She looks right at my face, but hers is sad.

"Because she wanted to die."

Five quiet words.

"She figured it would be the easiest way out. With an heir secured, the empire would be stable- at least for a while. All the eyes were taken off her. She didn't care about Cyclonia anymore but she was still vain and there was the reputation of the family to uphold. A simple suicide would have been disgraceful. But she wanted to die, and she was taking Cyclonia and everybody else with her. Some twisted idea of redemption, for the it's sins. It was her master plan. That's what she told me when I'd found out what she'd done."

_Cyclonis' form was still as skinny as ever, except for the bulge of her stomach. She didn't have that pregnant glow other women got. Nor did she look distraught as Piper thought she should have in late of recent events. Instead, there was another look on her face. Something Piper couldn't place._

"_Everything is fine, Piper. I am fine." the empress insisted following the other woman's inquiry. _

"_No you're not," said Piper. "Bottling up your emotions is not going to help."_

_Cyclonis waved her off._

"_I have everything under control Piper."_

"_But the baby- what if it's a boy? Then-"_

"_Do not worry, Piper. I've thought of everything." The empress said._

_It wasn't until Cyclonis had left that Piper was able to name the expression that had been on Cyclonis' face._

_Determination._

_-----  
_

"And _why_..." I start slowly. "Should I believe you at all? Everything you've said is…It's ridiculous. And _wrong."_

"I'm afraid I cannot prove any of this to you Corvus. I'm sorry. But I promise that everything I'm telling is the truth."

"No," I say. "No it isn't. My Mother was not like that. She was never…"

"You really think your mother died from crystal radiation?"

I turn rigid. I had never given it much thought…despite the unlikely-ness…crystal radiation…the symptoms are variable…physical changes sometimes like in eye and hair colour…but the rest is across the board….she wasn't the first to live with such an exposure rate and yet those before her never grew ill…

"You're saying...she faked the crystal radiation?" I can no longer raise my voice to be indignant and outraged.

"In a sense, I would think. She poisoned herself as far I know. Slowly. She'd been doing it for years emotionally." Piper sighs shakily. "Oh Cyclonis…" she mutters to herself.

My hands curl up into fists at my side and I muster myself to bring a sneer into my face and stretch into my voice.

"I will hear no more of this." I declare and Piper's head turns sharply.

"I'm not done yet Corvus-"

"_I said I will hear no more of this_," I repeat, but my voice quavers underneath.

"It is important Corvus!" Piper calls out but I pretend not to hear her and keep walking. "She did love you, no matter what you might think now, she-"

"No more!" I turn and demand, my voice loud this time, echoing off the empty, empty room. I startle her into silence, then whirl around anger rising. I storm out onto the terra not waiting for the guard. The cold does nothing to cool the heat surging through me.

And I can't get her face out of my mind. Glittering on her dark skin, rolling down the sides of her face…

_Because, god dammit, she's telling the truth. _

'_She did love you…'_

Or, at least what she thinks is the truth.

I start the engine on my ride and take off fast. But not fast enough. You can't outrun the past. Somewhere in the back of my head, everything is piecing together. Everything I've known. And it agrees with Piper's story. It makes more sense than I want to admit.

Renald.

My Father.

_My Mother. _

_She wanted to die and she was taking everyone with her._

_God damn her. _


	17. Chapter 17

Disorientation.

Lights and shadows swim. It takes a moment for my eyes to focus.

It takes another moment to realize that I am staring at something. The thoughts fade in slowly, like the moon waning. Subtle changes.

What am I staring at?

A ceiling.

But it's…

There's a noise. Repetitively.. .

Covers. Blankets. I'm lying in bed. Staring up at the ceiling.

But it's the _wrong_ ceiling.

I'm a different room.

I sit up too suddenly. My vision blacks out as the blood rushes from my head and I sway involuntarily.

"Careful now, your Majesty. You've taken a bit of a turn for the worst."

Hostility fumes in myself. Why?

Noise. High-pitched. Something in the way of my hands. Cords.

Wires. Beeping.

"Are you alright Master Cyclonis? Master Cyclonis?"

The words become clearer all of a sudden. All sight, sound, and sense. My ears pop, like I've just come up from the bottom of a deep pool. My mind starts working again.

I'm in another room. The 'safe room', as it's called. Located deep in the fortress. A five star window-less cell. There are wires attached to my skin. The beeping of a heart monitor. Several people are also in the room standing away, though, I doubt they stood so far when I was unconscious. To my left, sitting on a chair, completely oblivious to all my animosity for him, is Renald.

_Off all the places and people I wanted to see least of all now…This room. This god-damn room. Couldn't I have been put in my room?_

I swallow some saliva to wet my throat, managing to produce a rusty, "Yes," from my vocal cords, then set a threatening glare at the others across from me at the foot of the bed. The people step back warily.

I had passed out.

Last night.

It explains my situation. I remember waking up in the middle of the night, sweating but cold. Unable to breath. I remember stumbling out of my bed, walking impossible. But it must have been possible, because I got to the door. I opened it, and used it to hold up my weight.

"Master?" asked one of guards turning around uncertainly. They both looked surprised. "Are you…?"

"Go get one the doctors," I said hoarsely.

They looked between each other.

"Both of you," I ordered. _"Now."_

"But sire," the one said. I couldn't recall his name then, but now I remember his name is Revrac. "Are you sure? I can help you to the infirmary if you'd like." He turned to his companion. "Charles, go find one of the doctors-"

"I said both of you," I snarled, hating how weak I must have seemed, how he hadn't jumped when I said jump and had begun asking if he could skip instead.

Not needing to be told twice, he reluctantly pulled away and disappeared down the hall along with the other guard. It was against rules, even in dire situations, for both to leave their post at the same time, but it was even worse for them to disobey _my _direct orders.

It seemed like hours they were gone. I couldn't let go of the door, gripping on to it stupidly, to keep standing. I knew something was wrong. I started to cough up more blood. I remember footsteps echoing down the halls, the sound of running.

"What do you mean 'asked for a doctor'? What else did he say? How bad was he?"

"He just said to get a doctor and he was sweating and pale, well er, paler, I guess cause he's already-"

"Tell me how he was- oh never mind you're useless!"

I couldn't register properly then who was speaking only that I heard voices and that they were coming towards me, to help, not harm. My consciousness was slipping. A weak smile spread across my face as my knees gave out and I collapsed, dully registering the smack against the stone as someone shouted my name, my name not my title, out loud.

"What do you last remember?" Renald asks.

"Hitting the floor," I say dully, without looking at him. Then I snap at the meandering bodies. "I'm sorry but is there a particular reason you all have to be here?". Two Generals, officers, a captain, the doctors, nurses etc. jump startled. "I will deal with all of you later but if it can wait then it will. Anyone who mustn't be here can leave and if you bother me for something I deem less than urgent, save yourself the pain and cut off your left arm, or else worse will be done. Is that understood?"

There' s a flurry of 'Yes Master' and nods, small bows and exiting the room. Nearly everyone leaves, except for the doctors and nurses who bombard me with some tests and questions and the usual 'how are you feeling' routine, which irks me more than normal. I'm a mess. This is apparent. There's no passing this off as a cold anymore. Rumour will spread. People will see me as weak. This as an opportunity to strike. I haven't dealt harshly enough with the "Rex Guardian" impostors; they're still alive, sending the wrong impression that yes, you can try to kill the Emperor of Cyclonia, and live too.

_Weak._

A hour or so passes before the room clears out, leaving just me and Renald. He sighs and takes off his glasses, a habit of his he seems to do more often now, and wipes them with the hem of his shirt.

"You gave us a bit of a scare there Corvus. You went flat line. Stopped breathing. For a second…"

_Weak._

"…everyone's talking now. Knowing the Advisers they'll probably force you into union with the first girl available. They won't like it if you kick the bucket without an heir to ensure their positions remain so high up. No one expected anything like this, certainly not so soon."

"You expected it."

He looks over at me surprised.

"You knew this would happen," I say coolly. "You knew about my father, his disease. But you lied to me. What else have you lied about Renald?"

His surprise slips into a frown, and he slides his glasses back onto his face, and I notice the dark circles under his eyes.

"Yes… you're right Corvus. I did lie to you. I suppose Piper told you then?" he says sounding ashamed. Is he though? "I did know the man who was your father. I treated him and", he looks down for a moment. "...failed, to cure him. I had the suspicion for a long time that he and Cyclonis had…but it was your sickness that confirmed it."

I remain quiet, urging him to continue.

"I did not tell you…because, your Mother- Master Cyclonis had forbidden me from ever divulging any knowledge about your father's sickness and death. She knew I suspected her relationship with him. I swore to keep silent."

"My Mother is dead." I state bluntly. "Does her dead word mean more to you than mine?"

"I made a Sacred Oath to the Master: I knew you'd discover the truth eventually, one way or another. I promise you Corvus, I meant no disloyalty to you."

I eye him carefully, wishing I could back the layers of skin to reveal the truth. I feel betrayed. I never suspected this from him. I should have been more aware. I've let my guard down.

_Weak._

I look away from him and begin to pull the wires off me ignoring the snap and tugs on my skin.

"We still need to monitor you-" Renald starts.

"Monitor me elsewhere. I'm not staying here. I have work to do."

"You need to rest Corvus."

"You will call me by title, Master Cyclonis," I say glaring at him.

He leans back from me. "My apologies..." he says frowning. "Master Cyclonis."

*-*-*

"_Master Cyclonis."_

"_I am your mother, Corvus. Call me so. You are now Master Cyclonis."_

_I knelt by Mother's bed, looking at the sickly, frail woman swallowed by the sheets.  
_

"_Mother," I said, "You can still make a recovery."_

_She smiled weakly. "I think not my son. You must ready yourself for the time a head."_

_I nodded stoically. "I will not fail you Mother. I promise you."_

"_No Corvus," she replied. "I'm afraid it is me who has failed you."_

"_You have been an excellent ruler," I insisted. "Your name is exalted. You have succeeded in what many masters before you failed to do. You are legendary."_

"_Yes," she said bitterly . "I have brought Cyclonia to power. I have made this world what it is." She frowned, the turned over to stare at the ceiling. How long had she stared at that ceiling? Memorizing the lines and shadows of the safe room._

"_I have things to attend to Mother. Send for me if you need me. "_

"_Too soon. It's too soon."_

"_Mother?"_

_She turned back to look at me, on the verge of tears. " I am sorry Corvus. Truly. I never meant…oh but I did. I meant for it all and that's the worse. But now…" She closed her eyes letting two tiny translucent tears fall from her eyes. "Now it's too late."_

"_Everything will be fine Mother." I said not understanding her words. I figured the radiation was meddling with her thoughts . "You will easily overcome this. Crystal radiation can be medicated."_

_But it wasn't the crystal radiation that was killing her. _

And now her words….

I finish yanking off all the wires on my body, sending the machines in to a frenzy, the heart monitor squealing in one long beep- like the day my mother's heart gave out - and I pull myself off from that bed. She had died there. Poisoned herself. Poisoned me.

Maybe in more ways than one.

Maybe mid-twenties was too long for her to let me live. Maybe she figured I'd do too much damage in that time. Maybe Renald was helping it all along. Maybe she had sworn him to that too.

Posthumous.

I glare at the bed.

_You're not taking me with you._


	18. Chapter 18

Days pass.

Work piles up. People are on edge. I can feel it coming to a boil. The Advisers won't leave me alone about producing an heir, and plenty of women have made their appeal. Phalaropa has sent more than one message wishing me well and hoping too see me. People don't bother to whisper but freely talk. The Master is dying.

And I can't sleep.

I pull myself out of my bed. I'm exhausted, but unable to rest..

_"Hang upon his penthouse lid_

_He shall live a man forbid"_

I run my fingers through my hair, then get up. I go to the library.

* * *

His name was Gavin.

_Born on Terra Bluster, he joined the army when he was sixteen for the Cyclonian Expansion. He rose quickly in skill and rank. By the age of 18 he was a renowned warrior. While he choose not to become a General, he was still often found at the Master's right hand. According to those close to him he was a loyal and charming young man, but feared in the skies and on land. His skill was unmatched and many SkyKnights and their squadrons fell to him. At the age of 24 he began to grow ill with some unknown disease that crippled his ability to fight and he retired from public life. He died on at the age of 28.…_

I shut the book, and it makes a padded thud. It's nothing but facts. I realize with a bit of bitterness that his name had actually come up a few times during my studies in history.

It never mattered to me who he was. Never. I knew who I was, I knew my birthright. I knew my Mother. And that was enough.

Now?

Apparently I've gotten it all backwards. He was the innocent one in this and my Mother the manipulator. Would he have approved? Had he known what she planned, would he have gone along anyways?

_Why should it matter?, _I ask myself. It doesn't. I never cared so why should I start now? It doesn't matter who _either_ of them were. I know myself. I know my role, my duty.

And that will be enough.

I decide to take a walk, because, although I 'm drowsy I can't stand the thought of trying to work or sleep. Instead I wander, and on a whim I find myself in one the cellar halls. Places of storage and rooms where clutter seems to gravitate. I know them faintly, from what seems another life. As a child I would hide among the relics and old weaponry, whenever I could find time to myself.

The dust has thickened.

I walk along the room. There's old armor on the floor, boxes piled haphazardly, books, posters, twisted staffs and other oddities.

I come to the end of the room. Across from me is a wall, windows on either side. Cold lightening from outside deathens the darkness momentarily, before vanishing again. In the dim light of my staff and the slaps of light from the storm, I see them.

Shields of old forgotten Skyknight squadrons are scattered and symbolically carved and mutilated on the floor around me. There are many I am unfamiliar with. An image of red wing has a deep gash across it. Another has a curious looking marking, resembling that of the Latin alphabet letter **Q. **The whole shield is bent in half.

In front of me, closer to the wall and most damaged looking are the ones I recognize. On the right is a round shield that had once been gold but now seems grey with grime. It is broken into pieces. Barely discernible, like the picture a puzzle makes when all the parts aren't quite together, is the white, graceful image of a swan. The mascot of the Rex Guardians.

On the left, not equally shattered, but more painfully disfigured, is the metal image of a hawk, silver-white and raised from a red background. Deep gashes run across the wings where the metal has been melted away like wax. The Storm Hawks.

They lay on either side of the room, thrown down like defeated soldiers on their knees before their conqueror. The conqueror, per se, hangs on the wall above them. The only whole and unscathed emblem in the room. A squished kite shaped metal plate. Inside, it's edges cut off, is a circular red band framing a hunched, red avian on a pale gold background. It is a symbol that has become both feared and respected. The symbol of Cyclonia.

It glowers. It presides. It reigns above the other broken insignias, the remains of fallen people and terras below it.

_Well that is how it should be isn't it?_

I blink thinking.

Why is that even a question?

The lightening flashes, it's harsh light filling the room.

Something is off. I narrow my eyes and hold up my staff trying to shed more light. The sky sparks again.

_There._

It is thin but clear, running diagonally through the coat of arms, much like a black lightening bolt in itself.

A crack.

* * *

**A/N:The quote is from none other than Shakespeare's Macbeth, when the witches are discussing a man they've cursed with sleeplessness. **

**As for the 'hunched avian' on the Cyclonian emblem: Does anyone actually know what it is? My sister insists (violently) that "it's a vulture stupid" and I'd agree (on the originally storm hawks website it mentioned vultures a couple times) except at the beginning of "The Age of Heroes" we see a crow/raven fly in. I'm leaning towards vulture.  
**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Palin Debris:Wish I could have replied sooner but because you posted in anonymous I wasn't able to find your account and PM you . While I'm honoured [ :D] that you like the story I do consider the idea a bit major (um plot's sorta big'~'). I'd actually be more ok with you using the things like names etc. because they're just tiny details. It also depends on whether the story is for other fanfiction or not. If it's story ideas you're looking for though, the best ideas are the ones that 'come' you from nowhere. **

**Hmmm. I am iffy on this chapter....  
**

* * *

"_Five hours?"_

"Five is plenty. For the record I went to bed earlier, I simply couldn't fall asleep."

Renald looks like he wants to slam his head against a desk. "You need more sleep Corvus, surely Dr. Brinius has told you that as well."

"Five is what I can spare."

I'm in Renald's medical office again, more out of necessity than choice. Despite my current distrust for him, he's still my best doctor.

He frowns at me.

"You need to sleep more."

"I feel sick when I try to sleep."

He raises an eyebrow at that one, but it's true. The five hours I'm getting is more like four, for all the times I wake up during the night.

"Do you have anxiety?" he asks.

I laugh humourlessly. "No more than usual."

"Nightmares?"

My sarcastic smile slips of my face.

"That's not the problem."

"Then what is?"

I wave a hand nonchalantly. "I simply have too much work to do. It's my own fault, really. I just need to be a bit more organized."

"You're still sick Cor- Master Cyclonis."

"Well _I _feel better," I lie. "What happened a couple days ago was a fluke."

"It was _not_ a fluke, and with all due respect you look ready to pass out again at any moment. Take some time to rest Cyclonis, you deserve a vacation."

"I have work to be done."

"Is stubbornness genetic too?" he exclaims. "Your Mother drove herself sick with her work, and your father was the same. Break an arm and by the next day he claimed he was ready to fly." He sighs looking down at the floor and his tone softens. "You're a bit like him, in some strange ways. He was completely dedicated to Cyclonia. Not for glory, or power. Just out of duty. I spoke with him a little. He loved your Mother, that was apparent. He was-"

"_Why _are you telling me this?" I snap irritated.

"Because you're too proud to ask," he replies mirroring my irritation and my eyes narrow.

I don't know if I can trust Renald. One little lie has sparked huge doubt. According to the Nightcrawler I've had following him (initially for his own safety and I'm glad now I choose not to tell him about it) indicated that his activates seemed harmless enough. He spends a lot of time in his lab. Working on a cure supposedly.

Or the _cause._

Did Renald know my Mother killed herself? Was he lying again? Perhaps he had helped her. Fed her the poison and now perhaps he was feeding it to me too. He took an oath to the Queen. Who knows what he swore.

All those times he called me paranoid about conspirators in the government, perhaps trying to throw me off his trail? But then what of the person following him? It dawns on me that I have all sorts of spies working for me. Could one have been on the lead of a threat to me, another Nightcrawler perhaps, who had suspicions of Renald? No, no. That doesn't make sense - well, it does but, if that was so, then why stop following now? Why not report it? Then he's dead possibly, another missing spy, not the first to vanish.

Damn.

And it's worse because I also know that ever since my little sparring session with Spaerrow, he's been _talking_ to her. Healing the minor scraps she got and getting from brawls with the guards. Conversation on the side. I don't know what though.

Damn, damn, damn.

I trusted him. Hell, I liked him. He taught me biology, physiology, all the medical information I knew. He'd known me forever. Gotten on my good side.

So I wouldn't suspect him. Wouldn't want to suspect him.

It's the perfect set-up. The perfect plan.

A Master plan.

But if I can't trust Renald…

I can't trust anyone.

And maybe I can't.

Subconsciously my hand moves up and touches a sore spot on my chest.

Renald sighs deeply. His eyes search me, but find nothing. Then he picks up his clipboard flipping through and his eyebrows pull together.

"Master, when you answered the questions, when the other doctor and nurses were running tests, were you telling the truth?"

'_You're_ asking _me_ if _I'm_ telling the truth?' I want to say but don't. "Yes," I reply. "Why?"

He looks perturbed. "I was hoping you were lying about some of these newer symptoms." Then he mutters something unintelligible.

"Keeping more secrets Renald?" I snidely remark. He looks at me, but not offended. Just concerned.

"Remember when I told you that you had Letum Posthumous, but that you also appear to be sick with something else?"

I nod.

"Hmmm…" he murmurs staring back his papers. "It's just that…and I've already doubled checked this…but…"

"Spit it out Renald."

"Your symptoms," he musters sounding disconcerted. "The ones that don't match up with L.P…."

I give him a forceful glare.

"They're the same as your Mother's, when she was sick."

Every nerve ending in my body seems to freeze, stiffening me. The sleeplessness, the nausea, the heart failures…Why hadn't I picked up on that? How could I have not made that connection myself?

Death on my Father's side.

Death on my Mother's side.

I guess mid-twenties was too long for her after all. But how? How is she doing this to me?

_Who's_ poisoning me?

The answer is obvious.

I look at Renald.

It's not paranoia if they're really after you.


	20. Chapter 20

"You look like shit."

"Hello to you too."

The dungeon today, a long barren hall. The torches glow dimly red. Too tired to stand, I sit with my back against the wall across from her cell. She sits close behind the bars.

We stare each other down. "You're not looking so undamaged yourself." I add taking in the minor scratches, bruises, and bandages on her.

"The guards started it." she shrugs.

"That's not what I hear."

"Figures they'd say otherwise." She carelessly picks a scab on the top of her hand, and flicks it into the corner of the cell. "Maybe I was just trying to get some attention." she mumbles.

"Miss me did you?" I muse sarcastically.

She snorts. "Like I miss chicken pox." But her mask of scorn drops. "Actually I was wondering if you had croaked or something. All the guards kept whispering 'bout you being sick and dying. And last time I saw you, you were coughing up your lungs. Put two and two together I thought maybe you'd kicked the bucket."

Then she chuckles. "Looks like I was only half-right."

"Half?" I ask.

She smirks. "You_ look_ half dead."

"You ever seen a corpse, Spaerrow?" I say, a dark undertone to my words. "Because I can arrange that."

The smirk disappears. "Well _someone's_ in a bad mood.", she observes.

"Quite." I reply. "So none of these games. The Captain informed me you were ready to talk. But clearly you were not telling the truth." I pause, waiting to see if she disagrees with this statement but she does not.

"In that case," I say, "I have no reason to remain and no further reason to keep you or your collaborators alive." I let this hang in the air for a moment. She keeps her emotions hidden.

"Perhaps," I add. "You shall change your mind after you watch the first of your friends be executed."

I notice her wince subtlety. Her hands tighten, pulling at the fabric of her pants. She bites her lip, and trembling looks down. "_No," _she states. _" I won't."_

"Come now Spaerrow." I say. "You and I both know you don't want your friends to die. Whatever am I to tell ex-colonel Cygnus what has become of his daughter? The poor man was so distraught about her. How will I explain to him that she had to die because you wouldn't answer a few questions?"

Spaerrow grits her teeth and her fists clench.

"How about you explain it to him?" she growls at me. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

I frown.

"Quite to the contrary. I can't let any of you live without a justified reason. Just tell me what I want to know."

She hisses angrily, then looks down again, squeezing her eyes shut.

"_I. Can't."_

"Then your friends will die." I state.

"If I tell you, other people will die." she says quietly. "We knew what we were doing. We knew the risks. We took them anyways."

Silence fills up the spaces after her resolute words.

I sigh.

"What did you come here hoping to achieve?"

She looks up puzzled by the apparent stupidity of my question.

"To off you of course."

Oh, she has such a way with words.

"And why," I continue. "Would you want that?"

"To overthrow the empire."

_Is that a confession?_

"And you desire to overthrow the empire because you think the people would be better off without it yes?"

"Yup. That sounds about right."

"And how is it worse off now?"

"Well _geeze," _she drawls , "That fact that the ruler's too dumb to know for one. Let's see - there's the lack of democracy, the lack of freedom, the extreme poverty versus the extremely well-off, the ridiculous taxes, the soldiers doing whatever they please. Oh and how about second, third and fourth class citizens, hmm? The way the government controls _everything. _The expansion, conscription for the expansion, the corruption, the greed. Is that reason enough?"

"Those are some very general categories, Spaerrow."

"It gets worse in detail."

"And you say, that these are bad things, yes?" I lead on.

She looks incredulous that I'd ask such a thing. "_Poverty? Dictatorship?" _she emphasizes. _"Greed?"_

I half-smile. "It all depends on how you spin it." I say. "A lot of the things you mentioned were already in place on separate terras before they became a part of Cyclonia. You like freedom? Freedom is capitalism. Capitalism is the reason we have financial extremes. Conscription? The state serves the people, the people serve the state. Poverty? Natural selection. Supporting the poor only leads to more poverty."

"But that's abandoning people!" she exclaims.

"Survival of the fittest."

"What about choice though? Free will? Free speech?"

"Oh you have that," I assured her. "There's just consequences sometimes to what you do with it."

"And why should we punished for those things?" she demands. "It's not really freedom if there's a sword to your neck for your choices!"

"For the greater good Spaerrow."

"But whose good?" she snaps. "_The Empire's?"_

Of course the Empire's, I think to myself. She says it like it's a negative.

"We must all make sacrifices." I say. And_ no one _is exempt from that.

She lets out a yell of frustration and kicks the bars. The noise vibrates, then fades out.

"Sacrifices," she mutters mutely, crossing her legs again. "Murder on an alter to satisfy the hungry gods."

I'm surprised by her insight. How often have I alluded to Cyclonia as a whole, as a 'god'?

"A hungry god indeed," I say in agreement_, "But not, unwavering." _

She looks at me distrustfully. "What do you mean?"

I lower my voice. "I can give you what you want."

That gets her.

"You came here hoping to change things- to make things better. _I_ can make that happen. Your friends will live. Nor will I kill those who assisted you in your travels. But you will give me what I want. _You will give me the truth."_

Her mouth hangs open for a moment. She studies my face, trying to pick out my deception, searching for some giveaway or some reassurance.

"Why?" she finally asks. "Why would you do this?"

Why?

Why not?

Why not just kill them?

Why offer them a chance to live?

Who says I am?

You do what you have to do to get what you need.

How can anyone trust me?

I'll turn on you in a second. If I have to. Then I will.

You catch more flies…

They are misled.

This is my empire. I can't let it demonized.

You catch more flies with honey…

Just children really. The future.

Should smother the rebellion now, before it grows too big. Am I too soft?

You catch more flies with honey than…

Why _have_ I let them live this long? Questions or not, they ought to be executed either way.

Why won't I kill them?

Why can't I kill them?

Why shouldn't I?

Am I soft? Am I turning into my Mother? Weak and sick?

You catch more flies with honey than …

It's up to her. She decides whether they live or die.

_Vinegar. _

"I tried to tell you Spaerrow. Cyclonia is not the evil demon you think it is."

She seems to waver. Thinking. She bites her lip. "When you say my friends will live…you mean under watch? In jail?"

I attempt to hold back a smile. "Freedom will cost you more."

Her eyes search me and she swallows, so faintly nervous. "_What. More?" _she asks hesitantly.

I hold up my head. "Your allegiance."

She stiffens.

"You want me.. " she breathes finally, "To swear my loyalty to you? To be a _Talon?"_

I smile. "Your friends go free and can choose to live their lives peacefully."

She's quiet. I'm surprised to see her contemplating this. Actually considering when before she was so opposed. Time in prison had funny way of changing people's minds. "You'll …"she starts. "…order me to kill people." she whispers.

"It's possible." I admit.

"Then _no," _she states sitting up straight and defiant. "I will not be _honour bound _to your will. I will _not_ kill people on your command. I am no track beast of Cyclonia. "

I cannot believe what I am hearing. Is she really so _stupid? _

I am giving her the freedom and lives of her friends. I am giving her _a life. _Does she really think I expect her to keep her oath, at least, in regard to killing anyone? No. I expected her to take this offer. To see it through. And then, should or when a time would come when her morals would interfere with my commands, I expected her to turn her back and abandon the life of a Talon.

Not that I would have let that unfold quite like that but that's what I expected she would do.

But _honour bound. _Those Guardians. I realize that if she were to take that oath, she would, by no one's will but her own, be obliged to keep it, absolutely and fully.

Idiot. One lie of allegiance that I know she wouldn't mean but she won't take it.

"You really don't know how to play your cards, do you?" I say. "Then shall we go with the first deal?"

Her fingers twitch. She hesitates.

"Truth," she says, "For the lives of my friends?"

"And the lives of those who assisted you. All spared. Albeit, a half-life. " I assure.

"A half-life," she murmurs. Then she gasps quietly, a quiet realization of something I am not privy to. Anger resurges in her features.

"_No." _she states again, this time more violently. "There's no way I'll make a deal with you. Not with the devil. You're a _liar."_

"So ready to decide the fate of your friends..." I say, though surprised again at her rebuttals.

"_I told you_- we've decided already. We knew what would happen. We came here to change things alright- _or die trying." _she asserts. Her motions became grander. "You mentioned sacrifice? Well this is ours. We were_ already_ living half-lives. And now, you might think we have failed but we haven't. The rest of the world has watched and heard and they know there's still fighters out there- that they are not alone in their half-lives. We are a spark- _a light _- and our flame is spreading till it will devour the darkness - _Cyclonia. _The darkness of Cyclonia is coming to an end! Light will always triumphs over darkness!"

The last word of her speech echoes dimly and pathetic, swallowed by the vacancy of the dungeons. I don't know whether to laugh and clap or bash her head against a wall for being so thick and naïve. Her final act of rebellion is the last straw. There's nothing now- she's made it clear that there'll be no negotiations. A perfectly sour note to end my week(s) of chaos and tribulations.

My head hangs low and I chuckle bitterly. "You stupid, stupid, girl…" I murmur. I raise my head, looking her in the eyes. She's stubborn, but listening. "You call yourself the 'light' and Cyclonia the 'dark'?" I laugh quietly again, amused by the irony. "Alright. Fine then. But you should know," I say, mouth quirked, "that the 'dark' never really goes away. It's always there. It's a space- the lack _of_ light. The light lives and dies and needs a source. But the dark? The dark is forever, and sooner or later, it's always there again. It never actually leaves. Your 'light'," I mock, "may try to fill the darkness, but in reality, it is your light that will be devoured by the vastness of the black. And so shall be the same with _you_ and _Cyclonia. The dark always wins."_

All the time her face contorts with anger and hatred.

"You've made your decision, Spaerrow." I say and her name is like metal on my tongue. "I wash my hands of this."

I get up. I look at her. I start to walk away, trying the erase the conversation from my head, and the sick feeling from my gut. _It was her decision…It's over now. I wash my hands-_

"You'll come though, won't you Corvus?"

I stop, mid-step, remembering another one of the questions she never answered. That being how she managed to find out what my first name is.

I turn around again to look back. She's standing , trying to lean through the bars.

"To my execution." she explains.

"You want me to be at your death sentence?" I ask incredulous. " Now that deserves a categories of sadism all on it's own."

"I want you to watch." she says, voice clear and prickly sharp like a bucket of glass shards. "So you can see. So you can see what you've done. Maybe my blood will blacken your clean hands a little," she spits.

"_So they can match your empty soul."_


	21. Long Live Cyclonia

I go to sleep late tonight.

Wearily, I try to keep my stature up as I walk to my chamber. The guards salute at the door. I barely raise my hand in return.

The one day has felt like three. In my chamber I don't even bother to change. Instead I throw off my cloak and collapse backwards onto my bed. I'm even too lazy to remove my stalves from the sides of my legs.

Irritated, I run my hands through my hair.

"_You'll come won't you? To my execution?"_

I growl frustrated. _I'll __kill__ you _myself _if you want. Trying to manipulate me? Guilt me? I could do it myself-_

And I'm sure I really could.

But the image from my nightmares comes back to my mind. First, my Mother, with her staff impaled in Aerrow's chest. Then, as me and Spaerrow. My stomach turns. Why does it bother me so much? People die. Sometimes you have to kill them. Sometimes they bring it on themselves.

I remember what Piper said, about the guilt and hate destroying my Mother. My Mother shouldn't have felt guilty - it was a war after all.

I rollover on my bed and sigh. I don't have the energy to be worried about it. My eye lids droop. Sleep takes everyone prisoner.

* * *

_Air._

Suddenly I am awake and panicked. I sit up straight and grab my shirt, to claw at my chest.

_Air. I need air._

But my lungs don't move properly. I wheeze, and then cough up blood. My body feels all wrong. Aching, dizzy, sick.

_It's worse than my last attack._

_Oh Lord, I've done it now. I should have listened to Renald and took a break. I should've let them monitor me._

I try to move. I feel pathetic, seeking help again.

My muscle are weak. As I slide of the bed, collapsing onto the stone, I grab onto it futilely to support myself. My breathing is heavy and my throat feels clogged.

_How are you poisoning me, witch? How?  
_

Clambering at the side of the bed I feel something odd beneath my fingers. Underneath the thinner fabrics, at the side of the mattress.

I checked the whole room for poisons, the food, the air.

I never checked inside the mattress.

I grab a fist full of the bed sheet lift it up.

There, along the side of the mattress, is a long jagged and poorly stitched tear.

_Here._

No wonder I haven't been able to sleep.

Desperately I grab one of my stalves and with a shaking swipe tear into the fabric, reopening the scar. Then, without caution - I'm past that point - stick my left hand into mattress. A spring. Cotton filling. Then, a harder cold surface. My hand grips around it and I suddenly feel like throwing up. There's other similar objects around it. I yank it out and stare at it, half in horror, half in anger.

Not crystal radiation, but actually crystals.

_Toxinia Crystals. _

Guaranteed to make you sick, and after enough exposure, kill you.

I throw the stone into the mirror. It shatters and screams the way breaking glass does.

Still shaking I join my stalves to make a crutch, trying to walk towards the door.

"Guards," I call out. My voice is faint. I cough. "Guards!" Didn't they hear the glass?

I collapse half way.

No, not here. Not like this. I can't let her win.

My heart beats madly.

I'm going to die like this. I have no heir. Cyclonia will be torn to pieces. Damn. I hate being proved wrong. I should have listened to the Advisors and gone with Phalaropa - but all I can think of is that damn Skyknight girl!

Another, sudden and subtle realization comes over me. My chest feels odd. I reach up with one hand placing my hand over where my heart is. It's not beating madly anymore.

It's not beating at all.

Pure panic swells inside me. I bang my fist against my chest. Beat you stupid thing !Beat!

There's a wonky response. A thump. Then another. Pain shoots in my chest and I cry out.

I hear a hesitant knock at the door.

"Is everything alright in there Sire?"

I. Will. Not. _Die._

"Guards," I rasp. "Your assistance, I -" another cough cuts me off, purple- red blood droplets falling onto the ground.

The door opens, letting in a small stream of light and two forms enter uncertainly. The younger one spots me first.

"Your highness!" he exclaims alarmed.

"_Go get help," _I growl staring at the floor, trying to lift myself.

"Yes sir- _ack_."

There's a sickening crack and the guard's body falls to the floor, followed by his staff clanging on the ground.

And it's now I realize that I'm as good as dead.

The light from the hall shrinks and disappears. The doors shut with a click and I hear the dead bolt locking.

His boots thud across the floor.

No.

I look up into the face of the other guard, straining keep conscious. What was his name?

He crouches by me, completely unconcerned. He lifts the red tinted goggles up onto his forehead. The dim light from the window makes his scar look jagged and horrible.

"Not looking too well there your lowliness." he starts, callously mocking. " Don't you like the crystals I got you?"

"_Revrac." _I hiss.

He mouth quirks. "Yup. Good name, if I say so myself." He says. "Kind of the reverse of what I am."

What? Figures it's not his real name. But the reverse? The name has no meaning that I can tell of. It takes a moment. I spell the name backwards.

"_Carver."_

_A traitor's name. _Only he is a traitor _to_ Cyclonia.

"Suitable isn't it?" he remarks.

"Who put you up to this?" I wheeze. I try to decipher a way out this mess. I'm too weak to fight and no one knows anything has happened. Where is my Warp crystal?

He snorts. "I'm not working under orders if that's what your thinking," he says disdainfully.

"_Then why?" _I ask.

He grabs me by front of shirt, pulling me close to his face, so I can see the cold blue of his one eye.

"_Justice," _he whispers harshly. "Like I told you before, I made a promise a long time ago. Cyclonia has destroyed the world. And your Mother murdered my family. I'm going to right those wrongs."

He drops me to the ground again and I go to reach for my staff but he kicks it away. I need to get medical attention now. Sweat is poring off me. My lungs feel heavy. I need air, but if I breathe too hard I start to cough. If I can concentrate, I can levitate my stalf back to me.

He reaches for something behind his back and stands.

"I've waited a long time for this," he tells me. I try to focus. There's a weapon in his hand. I hear him load it. My vision clears again.

A crossbow.

**_They never did find his body._**

"How?" I rasp. "How did you survive?"

He tilts his head.

"The rock," I explain.

"Sooo," he hums. "you know who I am."

Of course. I can match him to a photograph easily. After all, the images of their faces have been playing in my head for a week. I raise my head up, trying to keep whatever is left of my dignity.

"You're Finn, of the Storm Hawks. "

He eyes me contemptuously. I suppose I've stolen a bit of his thunder from him.

"You were _supposed_ to be crushed by a_ rock."_

"I'm surprised you know." he says. "But yeah, you're right. The night Cyclonis killed my family - A pillar of rock toppled onto me. I managed to blast a crater deep enough in it before it fell. I was pinned between it and the ground. _For three days." _he scowls. "I tried to blast my way out. I got hit by the rebounds. I reused bolts. By the time I got out, it was too late. Everyone I cared about was dead." he points the crossbow at me. "And now, everything I hate is going to die too. Starting with you."

"_So this is your justice?" _I say. It's really come to this. This is how I end? My heart stutters in my chest. I wonder if it'll give out again before he shoots me.

He doesn't give it the chance.

"_This is my justice." _He adjusts the crossbow one last time. My body is failing me. Black clouds over my sight at the edges of my vision. I can't fight the creeping dark.

_The dark always wins._

I completely sink to the ground, my head hitting the stone and I can feel the blood I've coughed up on my face. I fight to keep my eyes open, but slowly they shut in defeat.

His cold voice is the last thing I hear.

"_Long live Cyclonia."_


	22. Chapter 22

Cyclonia falls.

Without Corvus Cyclonis, the empire begins to crumble.

The prisoners scheduled for execution are inexplicably set free that night and escape, only to return later to Cyclonia with an army of rebels, to tear the fortress down brick by brick.

Revrac, or more correctly, _Finn_, disappears from Cyclonia without a trace. They never find the Master's killer.

The mighty fall and the mighty rise. Light truly triumphs over the dark. Goodness over evil.

Corvus dies.

Cyclonia dies.

Perfect little ending isn't it? A nice little dream. But dreams always end when we wake up.

And I do wake up.

* * *

I wake up to the sound of my cell unlocking. I'm barely asleep to begin with and I jump to my feet ready to fight, thinking they've come to take to my execution early. But then I see the guard is alone. He opens the door.

"You have to be quick," he says and throws something at me. I catch it instinctively. It's the key crystal.

"Free you friends," he orders. "They'll be down the hall and to the right wing. Here. You might want this too."

He walks up to me and hands me a sword.

_My sword._

_How did he-, _I think, _Is this a trick?_

"Good luck." He says and then, without explaining anything more, he turns and runs footsteps echoing down the corridor. I'm frozen in shock for a half a second before I run into the corridor, yelling after him.

"Wait -hold on-! Why are you doing this? Where are you going?"

He stops and looks back. The dim red light of the crystals highlight the age of his face. There's a scar on one side, a nasty intimidating thing.

"I'm finishing what you started!" he yells back and then takes off. My heart flutters.

He's going to kill Corvus.

_Don't waste time Spaerrow, _I think to myself. _Move!_

I start running in the opposite direction feeling like I'm dreaming. I wonder how he got the key and my sword, but there's no time to think about it. There's more important things.

Escape.

I had tried to come up with a plan but none of them ever seemed possible. And now, here's a miracle. I had kept thinking of my execution, shivering, and, honestly? Afraid. I wasn't sure if I would be able to watch my friends die and not crack to save the others. I hoped in a way that I might be first. Perhaps it would give my team mates strength enough to go bravely as well. Though, every time I thought of that, I felt like throwing up. Then came Corvu- Cyclonis with his 'deals' and trade offs. I wasn't sure what to think. The loyal, inquisitive, and kind young man the Doctor described him as was hard to see. Was he honest with me? I couldn't tell and I wasn't about to risk it either. But then, … I didn't know. The way the Doctor talked about him…

When I talked to him…

My old worn boots thud against the ground and I wish I was more like my name - light, unnoticeable and not so hulking. I open the door at the end of the hall and run into the next hall way.

"Hey you!"

_Well, damn, how easy did I expect it to be? _Of course there's another guard.

But to my surprise there's only one there in this next hall and I take him out easy. Somehow, I expected more soldiers. After knocking out the guard I run to the cells and find Tern's.

"Spaerrow?" He's awake and he runs to the front of the cell. "How did you- Is that your sword-? What?"

"Later," I say, my heart pounding in my chest, feeling like it's pushing on my ribcage. I open his cell and thrust the key into his hand. "Take this and free the others." I say, "They should be down this hall still. Watch out for guards."

"What are you doing?" he demands.

_I must be crazy, _I think to myself. "Going to find the Master. Don't argue! And don't wait up. I'll meet you guys at the rendez-vous. Same plan as before." I start to pull away but he grabs my hand and pulls back, fixing me with a heavy stare.

"Be careful Spaerrow." he says.

I nod. "You too."

There's a lot more I want to say.

And then I'm running again in the opposite direction back after the guard.

I manage to get myself to the Master's room, faintly remembering what the old man on Atmosia told us about the fortress. It seems too easy. The guards all off duty tonight? Something isn't right. I'm half way down the hall, the entrance made clear by the red-crystal torches outside, when I see someone look out, probably alerted by the noise of my pounding footsteps. They see me. I freeze. They freeze. Then he runs taking off down the hall, disappearing into the dark.

"Wait!" I yell. Was that guard from earlier? Damn, maybe he thought I was a solider, the hall isn't very lit where I'm standing. One of the doors to the Master's chambers, hangs slightly open. I swallow, suddenly nervous.

Finish the job. Do I want to see the finished job? I approach and cautiously peek in. It's dark except for some light shining in from the corridor and the window at the far side of the room. There's no blood puddle on the floor like I expect. But something in my stomach curls at the sight of the bodies on the floor. One shoved off by the door and against the wall is a guard, but it looks like he's now sleeping by the way he's curled up.

The other…

The light from the hall casts my shadow across him.

I take a silent gulp, pushing the fear down as I creep towards the body of the Master, paranoid his hand is going to jet out and grab me. But he doesn't move at all. I reach out with my hand and move his dark hair away from his face. His skin is feverishly hot. And he's deathly pale. A small trickle of blood runs out from the corner of his mouth. He looks different like this. Not peaceful, but less…less callous , more… human. He looks younger in a way: more like his real age. He looks like he's all dead now.

I run my fingers under his chin and down to his neck, feeling for a pulse. Dead or alive?

Do I care?

_Thump._

_Alive._

I don't realize I'm holding my breath till I let it out.

I stand. I grip my sword with both hands, its weight more prominent, and pause. Finish the job. Why couldn't that guard have finished it for me? I don't…I can't…but he has to…

It's what I came here to do. I know that. I've risked everything for this. How can I be indecisive now?

I think of the Doctor, wrapping bandages around my last cut from the last scrap with the prison guards.

"_I really wish you'd reconsider Spaerrow. He really doesn't want any of you die."_

.

But if I don't kill him, this will have been for nothing. My friends lives. My terra. The whole Atmos. I can't let them down.

But I don't move.

"Well," says a male voice from behind me. "What are you waiting for Spaerrow? Aren't you going to finish him off?"

* * *

.

**A/N:There's a lot I want to say about this story and the last chap but it doesn't quite fit, not here, not right now. Tell you next chap!**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I said I would upload this like a week ago and I was gonna but then..I spotted a mistake, and life happened and this probably has more mistakes, and whimsical grammar unfitting. But it's long...maybe unsuitably so...**

* * *

Pain.

Before any other sense kicks in there is pain. I feel not hollow, but as if half my organs in my chest have died and are now rotting inside.

My eyes blink open.

I'm alive.

Not dead.

How am I alive? My head pounds and there is a sharp stabbing sensation to the temple. _How much longer _will I be alive?

Why didn't Revrac- _Finn _- kill me?

My sight is fuzzy. I can make out shapes and colours. The door is open again and some light pours in. Voices. People. I see a pair boots near me, but they aren't the soldier's. I think I recognize them, which doesn't make sense, since she's suppose to be over four floors down and behind bars.

My eyes dart upward. There's another pair of feet standing nearer the door.

"Well," says a male voice. "What are you waiting for Spaerrow? Aren't you going to finish him off?"

I recognize that voice.

The puzzle pieces fall into place.

Spaerrow turns. "What? Who are you?"

"Don't mind me," the voice replies calmly. "Cyclonia should have fallen long ago. The pain Atmos has endured for years - it ends now. It ends with him. You know what you have to do."

"But you're…why would you want that?" she hesitates. "You're a Cyclonian."

"Not by blood," the man replies. "I've worked very hard to raise my position so high- to get inside the Master's ring, so I could take it apart from the inside. Do you really think you and your friends could have made it this far if it hadn't been for me? The soldiers who never reported you? The old man on Atmosia? I have been helping you all along Spaerrow. It is destiny that you escaped tonight. It is your destiny to free the other Terras from Cyclonia's grasp!"

"You?" she replies. "You did all those things?"

There's a silence, in which, I assume he nods.

"So now," he goes on. "Now is your chance. End him Skyknight."

I can feel Spaerrow look at me, but I suppose from her angle she can't see that I'm awake, my hair covering my eyes.

She doesn't move any closer though.

"Something wrong ?"

Spaerrow shifts now but away from me towards the other person.

"I cannot." she says. "It would be dishonourable to strike down an opponent already fallen."

I hate pity. And she's being stupid again.

I'm relieved.

"Do not waste time girl. Do not waste this chance." I hear displeasure in his voice.

"No," say Spaerrow. "To kill him now would be cowardly.""You want to wait till he-" his angered tone changes to bemused. "Oh speak of the devil. He's awake. Will you kill him _now?"_

Anger gives me strength enough to lift myself, resting on my arms so my face is not pasted to the floor. Spaerrow turns, gasping slightly and I can see she's had her sword this whole time. How did the little bird get out of her cage? She looks anxious.

"Please Spaerrow," says the man as he leisurely walks over from the doorway and she puts her sword up in front of her to ward him off. "I don't have all night.. If you're not going to do this then step aside while I rid this world of Cyclonia's evil forever."

"General Sclaud," I say grinning, though I'm not in any position to be so pompous. "Can't say I'm completely surprised. I've had my suspicions about you."

He frowns at first then smiles smugly. "Hmmph. Have you really? Shame you didn't see this coming_, Master_. Mind you," he adds. "I've had to be more careful since you came to power. You're not nearly as oblivious as your mother. I don't know which of you is more pathetic."

Spaerrow seems to sense the maliciousness in his words.

Sclaud pulls out his blade - a bit longer than the average energy sword and ignites it. It casts a pinkish-red light.

"You're still not fooling me Scalud." I say. "You're after the crown."

He pauses momentarily. His eyes narrow. "My intentions are pure," he says.

"Purely devious." I remark. Bad move.

"Be silenced!" He raises his blade and moves to strike. "Hrg!"

My hand jumps to my stalf on my leg.

Not fast enough.

_Clang._

Red meets yellow. Spaerrow locks her long broad sword with his, blocking his blow, surprising both Sclaud and I.

Then I thrust out my stalf, firing a violet blast at Sclaud, knocking him backwards.

I'm on my feet as fast as I can.

Exits?

But Sclaud's up too - my attack being weaker than usual. He lunges at Spaerrow first but she meets him ready.

"Insolent girl," he snarls. "I knew I couldn't rely on you." He thrusts her back - Sclaud has his own reputation as a strong fighter- and they match blows. I try to get an aim on him but they move quickly. He gets a good shot. She stumbles back and falls into the wall. I blast him, but he turns in time and deflects it.

He smirks. I'm panting already. I'm in no condition to fight. And with Spaerrow down temporarily stunned, I'm easy picking. He starts to circle me, like a Sky Shark.

"Phalaropa wanted to do this the old-fashioned way," he says clealy enjoying himself. "My sister will be displeased. But personally, I prefer killing you to joining the family."

I grin trying to keep up an appearance. "My regards to your lieutenant. But she just wasn't my type."

I blast. He blocks.

Our weapons meet. Behind him I can Spaerrow getting up. Good. I turn back my attention to my General.

"It'll never work Sclaud." I say. "The people will never obey an usurper."

He presses harder forcing me a step back. "Oh I think otherwise." he grins. "You wouldn't believe how many people I have working under me. There's quite a force looking for your replacement. People obey power. With you out of the way that'll be me and my talented lieutenant. You know of course of her Binding prowess." he pulls back suddenly then makes a jab for my left which I curve with my stalves. He kicks me sharply and I fall backwards.

"Besides," he continues gloating over me. "I won't be seen as an usurper." There's a glint in his eye. Then he opens up his arms and puts on a false face of sadness, still half smiling. "Oh all of Cyclonia will know of how I tried to save the Master." He grandly explains. " But arrived only to find that the Skyknight girl had escaped from her cell and already done away with him. And how that, in my ire of the loss of my Master, I avenged his death with hers." He looks down at me condescendingly.

_**Whack!**_

There's an unpleasant sound as the blunt end of Spaerrow's sword hitd the base of Sclaud's skull. His weapon deactivates and clatters to the ground followed by him dropping to his knees and slumping to the floor unconscious.

Spaerrow stares down at him with eyes narrowed.

"He tried to use me." A bit surprised, a little angry.

I look up at her.

"All the world will if you're not careful."

She looks at me and there's an awkward moment between us. She won't kill me, and I'm no threat to her as I am. How does one proceed? I know it's useless to try to attack her, to intimidate, and she's already passed up her chance to kill me. We've reached a sort of stalemate.

Apparently my stare bothers her. She scrunches up her face and scowls at me. "What? You have something to say?"

"He was right." I reply calmly. "You're wasting your chance."

"Trying to change my mind?"

"I don't think I could. I wonder how much taunting it would take…?"

"I could just hold you hostage."

"Try it. Should be interesting."

Her frustration grows. "_Don't tempt me.", _she threatens, but she doesn't unnerve me.

It takes a bit of effort to stand without looking too unstable. Warily she edges away. Using my staff for support I walk closer to her, closer than I expect for she stands her ground and stares hard. I whisper harshly to her.

"_I dare you."_

I'm doubling over in pain before I realize she's punched me in the stomach. I fall to a knee, but not facing her. I look up and smile.

"Well at least you're not all talk."

I see lividity in her face at being taunted once more.

"_Arrogant fools!"_

We both jump and turn suddenly, weapons raised at this proclamation from Sclaud groaning and rubbing the back of his head.

"Stay down Sclaud!" I command.

He lifts himself. "Shut up. You're nothing now. I've lost my patience."

"I warn you -" Spaerrow begins but he cuts her off.

"Quiet!" he snaps. "Do you know what this is?"

From his pocket he pulls out a faceted oval crystal glittering purple and I flinch back in surprise.

Spaerrow looks at it hesitantly.

"A purple striker?" She guesses stupidly.

Sclaud sneers and addresses me.

"Why don't _you _tell her what it is?"

I hesitate. Not because I don't recognize it but to buy time. A couple seconds.

"It's an oblivion crystal."

"Oh you really are the Master!" he mocks, then he sneers again. "And then you very well know that if I should fire it you, you'll be sent to…well…heh, _oblivion."_

"Oh here I thought we might have been friends," I say sarcastically.

He scoffs, too irritated to be amused. "I really so doubt _that_ little flaw will be of nuisance. So long my dear _Master."_

The crystal starts to glow.

But I haven't studied and worked with crystals all my life to be outdone by just _anyone._

And besides, I've already been building up my shield since he showed the crystal.

_Does _a shield work against an Oblivion crystal? Not as if I've ever tried…

Spaerrow stands and holds out her sword as though that will save her from the blast.

The rooms lights up in violet, a violet-pink wave coming at us.

It's as strong as I expect, which is bad, seeing as I'm not nearly strong enough.

It takes almost all my energies to shield both Spaerrow and I, and by the time the blast dies I know my shielding crystal does not have enough energy to withstand another attack.

Luckily the recoil from the attack hitting my shield has knocked Sclaud back. Unluckily he's getting back up.

_Does nothing kill this man?_

Perhaps he's thinking the same about me?

"Run!"

Spaerrow is out the door first and I try to be quick on my feet. Except that I feel sick, that my head feels clogged and heavy, that my breathing is about as strong as ragged tissue, that I want, my body wants, nothing more than to collapse and sleep (or die) than to run, run, run.

Down dark halls so peacefully calm I could shut my eyes and open them and think it was all a dream.

Except that the wall beside me just lit up and exploded.

I can hear Sclaud chasing and gaining and yelling, and ordering- calling for back up.

At the end of the hall two Talons step out barring the exit. Spaerrow starts to skid.

"I command you to get out of our way!" I yell. "Attack Sclaud!"

They shoot at us.

Almost unthinkingly, I grab Spaerrow's arm and tug her down a side exit.

Down another hall, rushing too fast.

I trip, slamming hard into the cold stone. Spaerrow skids again stopping, and for a half of a second, indecision flickers across her features and she glances fast behind us and then back at me.

Then she swoops down and slides my arm over her shoulder and hoists me up and we start running again.

Run, run, run. From my own soldiers with my enemy.

Run, run, run.

Several side passages later and the alarm goes off. Red lights start to come on. For us or something else?

"Wait!" I yell stopping us.

"What?" she demands, glancing behind us nervously.

They're just around the corner.

On the side of the wall is an empty torch stand. Quickly I take out a dark red crystal and sit it there. A rectangle piece of the wall, clicks and sinks in then slide away revealing a passage.

"Oh," is all I gather from Spaerrow's response and we jump into the passage, quick, and I take the red crystal with me. The door slides shut just as footsteps and voices ring clearer into the hall.

We wait there for a moment catching our breath, leaning against the wall, though mine is not caught.

Then, without another word to each other we start to move down the hidden way. At the back of my mind, I am aware that I have no reason to help her or for her, I. But my heart is still racing and likewise my mind. She didn't leave me to die back there- some heroic idea of defending the weak? Maybe she can be of some more use…But she's almost irrelevant at this point.

How much of a force does Sclaud have? Am I in any position to fight at all?

We come to a division and I lead us now, heading on a whim. Though I'm walking slow my breathing is still like that of a fish out of water, and my eyes are blurring.

Sleep. My body just wants to sleep or, sleep or die.

I need a doctor but I still hesitate when I think of Renald. If Rev- Finn's been poisoning me then maybe he isn't to blame after all?

Think, but I'm too tired to sort it out right….

The hand I've been trailing along the wall to steady myself slips, and I fall into the wall, barely supporting myself.

"Were you hit?" Spaerrow annoyingly tries to look me over.

"Just go on ahead yourself," I snap. I might just rest in the hall, till morning , I'll feel better-

"I don't think so!" She puts her hands on her hips glaring at me. _"And why the hell not_?" I manage panting. Why won't the girl not leave me alone?

"You could just be tricking me.", she argues. "B-besides, I wasn't kidding when I said I could take you hostage. We meet guards on your side and I have you to barter with."

"_Devious," _I applaud her, standing a little straighter. "That's a nasty way using someone. Good for you."She scowls and looks away slightly ashamed as I intended. "But what if we meet some of Scuald's men?" I then ask.

"Well….They're not really after me all that much." But the shame in her face still flickers. What a pathetic girl.

"Brilliant then," I readily agree with mock enthusiasm. "If we meet them you can just throw me at their feet and save yourself. " Like meat for the dogs. "Actually, it probably be _better_ if you got away. You'd still look guilty and you'd be a great distraction from the government and any inside jobs."

She sighs exasperatedly and then rashly grabs my arm and slings it around her shoulders, lifting me again, supporting and dragging me.

"Let's just get out of the mess."

The lights are still flashing the alarm still howling, when we exit the passage.

"Which way now?" Spaerrow asks whispering.

I toss my head to the left. "That way to the hanger bay."

We run, as hard as it is for me. But I try harder as to not look weak next to her.

I don't think its working.

Sleep or die.

"Spaerrow!" A voice calls down the hall and unthinkingly, Spaerrow stops. She looks around and suddenly stiffens.

A group of people are running towards us, but by Spaerow's out breaking smile I can guess who they are ( so she's not the only bird out of her cage). But their joyous expressions drop at the sight of us- or specifically-

Me.

They slow down faltering, their eyes taking in information and the brain processing it, leading to an unbelievable conclusion then sending a message to the eyes check again, and then the eyes sending back the same message repeatedly, confusion the only product.

"Spaerrow?" the boy in front starts, "What ..what are you _doing? _He's…why are you helping _him?" _He does not disguise the disgust in his voice.

Spaerrow's mouth opens but nothing comes out. A look of pained vacillation comes over her.

"Spaerrow…what's going on?" another member of the group asks, a young girl with frizzy red hair- no, _blond _hair, but in the light, everything in the red light-

They all look at her with the same confused, betrayed, waiting look.

"He's hurt." Spaerrow finally says in some desperation ( and another jab to my pride). "I couldn't just…I'll explain later."

The others look more confused, hesitant.

But the boy in front, stands to full height, a look of disappointment and determination on his face.

"No, Spaerrow," He says. "Were not taking him. Leave him here."

Well wouldn't that just be awkward. 'Hi, I've helped you get this far, but my friends don't like you, and frankly I don't like you either, and even I don't now why I've been helping you! So see ya!' Then dropping the body to the floor and walking off smiling with your friends like nothing ever happened.

'Yeah I don't know what I was thinking either!'

Spaerrow looks at the boy. Now _she _looks like she's confused.

"I can't just leave him here, Tern. He's being attacked too and-"

"He's the enemy!" the boy shouts suddenly. His yells echo through the hall, startling all of us "Have you forgotten that? We came here to kill him- Don't be foolish Spaerrow!"

. I feel like a picture on the wall, politely watching as they discuss how ugly I am. Like a patient, as doctors discuss which part to cut open, like a prince whose advisers decide his decisions for him…

Spaerrow is still holding me up, like a rag doll. She glances at me, then back at them. She grounds her teeth (bad habit of hers), and steadies herself.

"No."

She is always stupid.

The boy's frown deepens and the others look at her in shock.

"Spaerrow," his voice is low, and threatening, and _begging._ "Don't do this."

Spaerrow doesn't move.

"_Fine." _Tern growls and he steps forward and Spaerrow edges up a little straighter automatically.

" _According to the Skyknight code of conduct section two, as second in command, I declare you unfit to lead the Rex Guardians and am taking over as Skyknight."_

Spaerrow's mouth falls open gently.

Ears taking in information and sending it to the brain, the brain processing, unable to believe, the mind processing it, unable to believe…

Only the alarms make any sound.

The boy, Tern, takes another step forward and holds out his hand.

"Give me the sword Spaerrow."

Spaerrow's fist curls on my shoulder. Then, after a moment of stubbornness, but with pride, she puts out her other hand out, the sword in it, the blade facing down, her chin titled down, eyes down, mouth angry in a soundless growl.

He takes the sword then holds it up. He gives Spaerrow one last look, disapproving, then turns away. "Let's go," he says to the rest of them, "We'll be caught here."

The faces look away from us: another girl, with short, whiter hair, the taller, lankier boy. Then the younger ones: eyes wide, more unsure, but they too, sadly look away and they all begin to run in the opposite direction, making me wonder if they'll escape at all.

I remain quiet, and so is Spaerrow, standing with her head down, her fist still curled in the fabric on my shoulder.

Then the shouts of more soldiers yelling seems to snap her out of her reverie and we start running again, running away without a word. There is not time to think, to feel.

"Right there," I pant, and we nearly run right past the door to the hanger. With my red crystal from before I open it.

And who should we find in there working late but that fool, Michal, rubbing oil off his hands with a cloth.

Oh of all the times to be working…

I suppose in other circumstances the expression of his face at the sight of us might have comical.

"Huh? Whoah!" he throws the cloth to the ground. "What do you think you're doing?" He takes on a malformed Sky-fu stance. "You just stop right there Mis-"

"Michal!" I yell weakly. "Get in the gear closet!"

He looks at me perplexed. "What? But -" He double checks to make sure he knows who he's looking at. "She's that girl! I won't let her kidnap you Si-"

"Do it now Michal!" I say exasperatedly. "And don't come out till the coast is clear."

Michal's shoulder drop and look at Spaerrow then to me and again then sighs. "Sure." he says dejectedly. "I'll get in the closet." He meanders over to the gear closet and opens it, pulling out some boxes unenthusiastically to make room. He steps inside.

I limp over to my ride and take a seat on it. "Come on," I say to Spaerrow and she looks

at the ride and me and gets on. No point in hesitating now.

"Is there anything I should know?" asks Michal from the closet, still holding the door open.

"Yes! Be quiet!" -cough- "And no matter what don't come out."

We all turn as shouts ring out in the corridor.

"There! That's a hanger bay. Don't let them escape!"

I shut my eyes tight thinking hard. _He never poisoned me. It was Finn. And some one else has to know. _

A sore spot on my chest aches.

"And tell Renald." I say to Michal. "Now hide!"

Michal obviously doesn't want to but he 's a good Cyclonian and does as he's told.

The traitorous soldiers have caught up now.

"Get them!" One shouts and they start shooting at us.

I hope Michal listens to me and stays in the closet instead of jumping out in some sort of protest of my own guards shooting at me.

A wave of my staff and the doors start to open, but horribly slow.

I rev the engine on my ride, and the machine responds beautifully, curving across the room, avoiding their shots. I steer it towards the doors the tiny slit big enough, I hit the thrust throwing us into the air. We have to duck our heads to make it through.

Into the dark skies, plummeting, the wings open and catch the air, smoothly pulling us out of the fall. I push the cloaking device and we become one with the night.

We get some distance even before the Switchblades make it off the ramps. But they can't even see us let alone catch us.

I have no destination in mind. Just flying away, away from my throne, my rat-trap throne.

Soon we're flying farther away from the lighted terra altogether, into the unlit skies.

"Spaerrow?" I say.

"Yeah?"

"I'm about to pass out."

My mind is not much darker than the skies.

* * *

**A/N: Okay so here's that little info thing I promised last chapter. The truth is this; Corvus was supposed to die. In all orinality to when I first conceived the story, he was supposed to die. I knew that the first day. A child of Cyclonis would discover from Piper how the Storm Hawks had fallen and then he too would be killed and Atmos set free. It came to me one moment like that. **

**But then...the story grew...I began imagining new scenes, plot, characters. It's all somewhat in flux still, (if I let it get too stationary I get bored.)**

**I'm not saying he's safe or anything. Simply that, the chapter before the last was supposed to be the end. **

**But we should never suppose anything. Do not assume. Do not make plans.**

**Fortune laughs in the face of our plans.**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Back to short chapters! Yay for variation!**

* * *

When I wake, I am cold. Hell is cold isn't it? Or is it skin meltingly hot?

I did not think I could feel worse after sleeping.

I sit up groaning and someone stirs across from me.

There's mediocre fire burning by me, but I don't feel it.

Behind that, is Spaerrow watching me.

I sit up, but the movement doesn't sit well with me. I clear my throat once, which turns into twice, before I test my voice. I look around.

We seem to be inside sort of cave, weak daylight filling it up from outside. Outside, is brighter. Grey skies and white blank terra. White with snow.

The snow is disturbed. Spaerrow's footprints, and by them is a deeper, jagged trail probably made by her dragging me. My ride sits by a rocky outcrop, still translucent, but I can tell its there by the tracks.

I snort.

"And I was hoping it was all a nightmare."


	25. Chapter 25

I look at the tiny flame of burning twigs between us. There's something wrong about it. The way my eyes can't focus on the flickering locks.

"You call that a fire?"

She scrunches her nose at me. "Let's see you do better." She says, her usual attitude dampened, maybe by the cold, or the night's events, or weariness.

It's surprising she's made a fire at all, considering there isn't a tree in sight. Only cold, wet snow.

With barely any reluctance she hands over my stalves. Not much point in being cautious anymore, I suppose.

From it I pluck a yellow crystal sitting in a little niche along it, thankful that I had left it there. I drop it into the pathetic fire, and then wave my staff over it activating the solaris crystal.

A wave of warmth and dim, soft yellow light fills the cave.

"Oh." says Spaerrow.

_Is that too much cheating for you?, _I think snidely, but the words don't have enough substance to be spoken.

The fire devours the little twigs, eating them up in a hungry suicide. Too gluttonous to or too stupid to pace itself so it might live a little longer. Soon only the crystal will be left.

We sit there, quiet for a while.

And then, for no explicable reason at all, I'm coughing again, hacking up my throat, in a sudden and most violent attack.

After a moment of continuous spasm Spaerrow asks with minimal cynicism if I'm alright.

No, I am not alright, clearly I am not alright in any way, shape, or form.

I hold out my hand to tell her to keep away.

"You should rest," Spaerrow says.

Cough. "I'm," Cough. _"Fine."_

Instead, in an attempt to distance myself from her, to hide my weakness, I stumble towards the edge of the cave.

I step outside the cave- fresh air perhaps- but my knees give out.

_I hate you._

_I hate you so much._

I barely notice the girl standing nervously near me.

_You did this to me. Everything else I could have handled but you set me up from the start._

I put hand against the snow to support myself, and little drops of blood, stain the white.

This is not the death of a Master.

_But I'm not the Master am I Mother? Never was perhaps. You took it with you to the grave. You took everything with you. Cyclonia, me. Like an Egyptian Pharaoh you took it all with you. _

And whatever you did leave, everything I did have, I have lost to Sclaud.

Someone is saying something but everything is slurred and softening, I can barely feel the cold now, or the shaking on my shoulder…

_I don't know how much of what Piper said was true…Or what Renald claims…did you do this all out of guilt? As a penance to the world? Finally accomplishing what every skyknight ever failed to do? To end Cyclonia? They're weren't great enough to beat you. Nor me, I think. Not without your help._

"Cyclonis can you hear me? Hey! Can you hear me? Corvus? Corvus!"

_It's funny…almost. _

"Corvus!"

"Shut up."

"Uh..?" The shaking stops.

"You win."

You all win.


	26. Chapter 26

I am cold. Hell is cold isn't it? Or is it skin meltingly hot?

Huh.

Déjà vu.

I don't know if I believe in hell, or heaven or anything. People say that they often know they aren't dead because they're still in pain. Well, why? Why should you stop feeling pain in the afterlife? Why should the afterlife be so kind?

I open my eyes and see white. Soft, fluffy white drifting down.

But still cold.

I sigh.

Sitting up, I realize I can't have been out long. Or else I'd be colder. My hand of its own accord reaches up my face, touching the still somewhat warm blood on my face.

And I look over to see Spaerrow, kneeling in the snow, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. I can see the carmine red blood, smearing against her pale pink lips.

I blink, looking at her, confused and gently surprised.

She wipes away the blood, looking away from me to hide the evidence.

"You…?"

She glares at me, traces of red still faintly present, more annoyed than anything else.

"If you're done dying now, I think its time we came up with a plan or something."

* * *

**A/N: I died a little inside when I read the comment about cheesy romance moments D: There shall be no cheese in this story!  
**


	27. Chapter 27

Harrier Xander Rex. One in the long line of skyknights of the Rex Guardians. The last skyknight to stand against Cyclonia and defend the great Terra Rex. One of the first skyknight to surrender after the defeat of the Storm Hawks and rapid Cyclonian Revival. The terra's greatly divided on opinions of him. There are those who still praise him for doing what he could to save the lives of those on Terra Rex. Those who hate him for surrendering, and not fighting to the death, like an honourable knight should. And then those, mostly cyclonian immigrants, who laugh at him, their mock hero, thanking him for their rich opulence and dominion over the true people of Rex.

I have the significant and chivalrous history of the Rex Guardians to live up to, and my Grandfather's shame to live down.

And so far, I've been doing an awful job.

Not to be informal, which I've been more and more often, but in the words of a woman whom I greatly respect, _I'm as screwed as a thief in a Phoenix nest._

I was an honorary skyknight up until….a couple of hours ago? Surely yesterday by now. Not that I didn't deserve to lose my 'title'. I have betrayed my squadron. Helped a cyclonian. _Am _helping a cyclonian. Damn it, I'm helping _Master Cyclonis _himself. The man I snuck into Cyclonia, risked my teamates life, the safety of my terra, _to kill. _

And_ I saved his life instead._

And now I've brought him to the secret hideaway of Atmosian refugees who refused to live according to Cyclonian law. I've risked their entire city, their safety, their lives. A thriving, unique culture, that's been hidden away for decades in what is supposed to be the most uninhabitable place in the world: The wastelands.

For the third time I groan and bang the back of my head against the cavern wall. _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

Then, when I take my face out of my hands, I look at the source of all problems, the boy, or man, or teen, _or demon, _sleeping gently, less heavily than before, lying horizontally at my feet.

_He doesn't even snore._ You'd think I could have the pleasure of holding that over him, but no, he's evil perfected. And evil doesn't do normal things like snoring. He looks far too peaceful to be the dictator he is. I'm tempted to do something- like draw on his face.

I berate my self for thinking so childishly. Tern was right to take the sword from me, to relieve me of charge. A skyknight shouldn't think or act so stupidly. I'm supposed to formal, honourable, brave- even if it meant….doing something I found abhorrent.

Was I too scared to take his life?

Why should I have been scared at all?

All life…deserves respect. This I know. In traditional skyknight code, enemies were to be captured, not killed. That was what defined skyknights. At least, most of them. From a young age, I let it define me. It would be a _sin_ to kill.

But was that sin, a sin I was _supposed_ to bear? Is that a shame I should have, for the good of all humanoid kind, have taken? Would that have been my sacrifice, my moral conscience, rather than my life, in order to save my people?

I shake my head reverently and look at Cyclonis sleeping. He had… passed out, I suppose on the ride here. Perhaps he hadn't then learned the route here then? I couldn't entirely bring myself to believe something so naively hopeful.

Perhaps, though he won't live to the end of the day, sick as he is. I'm really hoping it's not contagious. Especially since I gave him mouth to mouth.

_Crack-blasters! _I can't even believe I _fricken did th-_

I try not to think about it, but the rest of my thoughts aren't much better.

Milly strides by now to check on him. Milly's too nice- even if she knew who he really is, she'd probably still help him.

"Well his fever's gone now," she informs me. "Breathings eased up. Looks better too. Any disturbances?"

I shake my head.

"Good, good." she says. "I'm glad. There isn't much I can do for him right now. I'm not sure what he has but when he wakes he may be able to explain some of it to us." She stands up and brushes the invisible dirt off her long brown dress. She smiles, then carries on to check on some of the other patients in the cave. The infirmary's pretty empty which is nice to see. A couple of workers from the Generators with lava slight lava burns come in briefly. Milly scolds them gently and takes care of the wounds, giving the aloe and a cooling crystal treatment. Then she resigns back to the backroom to work on some medicines. Her second eldest son drops in at one point too.

"Spaerrow!" He exclaims at seeing me, before then slapping a hand over his mouth when he realizes that some people are sleeping and he probably shouldn't wake them. I force a smile.

"Hello, Petrel, isn't it? Your mother's in the back room."

Petrel takes off his abashedly and twists it in his hands. "Oh, ok. But I actually came to see you. I heard you were back and - I was worried you know? We all we're. When your team-mates showed up but you weren't with them…I mean they barely said anything except that your mission failed and that you'd split up and gotten lost. Heck they wouldn't even wait here to see if you showed up. We all thought you were dead."

I can only nod at this. I'm thankful, that at least my team hadn't told them what'd really happened. Upon landing I'd been greeted by the council and lots of other people relieved to see me. I'd asked if they'd seen my team come by to retrieve our original rides. They had. And they had only told the Wastelanders two things: that the mission had failed. And I'd been separated from them. Their excuse for not waiting was that they didn't want to endanger anyone by staying as Cyclonia was hot on their trails. I told them something similar; that we'd merely been separated in battle, and that the unconscious young man with me was a Cyclonian defector who'd helped me. It was only a half-truth but I felt sick telling a half-lie anyways. Especially to people who had been so good to me.

Petrel sighs and sits down across from me. "Well I'm glad you're alive anyways." he says running a hand through his lank brown hair. He looks down at Corvus like he just noticed him. "So what's up with this guy? Someone said he was a Cyclonian defect?"

I nod again.

"Hmmmmm," Pertrel says rubbing his chin and eyeing Corvus subjectively. "Doesn't look like much to me. Nope. What's wrong with him though?"

_He's inhuman, cruel, a dictator, an enslaver-_

"He's sick. I don't know with what. Just sort've keeps passing out."

Petrel snorts. "Sounds a bit like a sissie. But most cyclonian are."

I'm really hoping Cyclonis doesn't wake up all of a sudden.

A heavy male voice booms from the entrance of the cave.

"Petrel! What are you doing? I told you to get the bungay roots over-oh, hello." He stops yelling upon spotting me. "You're the s_kyknight_ girl yes?"

I cringe only a little at that. "Yes. I am. I'm Spaerrow."

"Go away Fulmar!" Petrel insists. "I will get the roots. I just wanted to speak a little to Spaerrow first alright?" Petrel then covers the side of his face with a hand and whispers to me. "Don't mind my brother he's just-"

"Tired of your inconveniences." He reaches down with a hand and hoists his brother up by the scruff of his collar with ease- possibly because he's twice size in muscle mass, no doubt a Generator worker.

"My apologies, Miss." He says to me before dragging his brother off to a side tunnel, towards the backroom.

I don't even relax a little till they leave. And when they do I'm left to my own thoughts once more. Hating myself more fervently than before. Disgusted by myself for taking up residence. For eating the food Milly makes for dinner. For risking their peace.

I lay back and tell myself I didn't and don't deserve to call myself a skyknight. That in all technicality, I'm_ not._

And it hurts.

Because I want it so much.


	28. Chapter 28

When I wake up in the morning, Cor- Cyclonis is right where I left him, trying to break the record for longest slumber ever. Maybe he'll never wake up and just die of hunger or explode from not going to the bathroom-

- and I can't believe I just thought that.

I am in a very bad mood.

I drag myself up from the mat. My family and their good friends, at least, the ones who lived before Cyclonia's reign, always talk about how regal the Rex Guardians used to be. The pinnacle of achievement. We were clean. Graceful. Apparently, back then we had time to polish our armour and put on fresh underwear- and were not so unrefined as to _talk_ about underwear but-

I grew up in a mine. I practically grew up as a slave. My family's history made for bedtime stories. A fantasy, a dream of peace, and honour. A dream I tried to chase down and reclaim.

I'm dirty. My armour was dented. I lost that armour. I can't remember the last time I brushed my hair and I'm wearing the same clothes I left my terra four months ago in. The fantasy turns to smoke in my hand and the wisps dance out of existence.

I look down at Corvus and kick him none too gently at his shoulder. He shifts. Groans a little and remains sleeping.

Fine then. I have work to do. Milly shouldn't be lifting a finger, not for me, certainly not for _him_. I owe her all the chores in the world.

Right after a very quick bath.

Milly's tasks keep me running around the Wastelands all day. Back and forth from the infirmary, carrying salves and medicine to people. I can't help but marvel some more at the intricate, deceivingly delicate, absolutely hardy city and it's folk as I pass through. The way they have made their homes into the sides of cliffs, of overhangs, and tunnels. They way they have created a water system from the underground springs. Hot water! What a luxury! They way so many people are so good to me, nothing but pity and empathy. They had hoped for us. My team and I. Six little strangers, six children on a mission. They helped us there. And they have helped us after our failure. I swallow thickly in my throat as I murmur "thank yous" ashamedly. Then I'm picking up groceries, exchanging small talk and messages with her husband at the gardens, running around pretending that everything is fine, and secretly wishing as usual, that I'd been born here in this dangerous, perfect place of ingenuity and survival. My errands keep me on the streets and between places longer than I expect.

When I get back, he is gone.

_Gone._

And I nearly drop everything in my hands. Including the eggs.

Because Master Cyclonis is missing. The thrown over covers are about the most alarming thing I've seen in my life. He's somewhere in this wasteland peaceful refuge that's hidden from Cyclonia for over 30 years. That, because of my stupid actions, I may have just _ruined._

"Oh hello, Spaerrow, I'm glad you're back. Did you get the eggs?"

"W-where's Cy- Corvus?" I stammer to Milly. Crap. Things are bad, but I'm sure calling him Cyclonis will just about end everything.

"Oh the young man? He woke several hours ago, just after you left. He said he was feeling much better and a couple of workers from the Geotherms came by and offered to show him around-"

Oh my God.

…_Oh my God._

"-they're probably at one of the plants and- oh Spaerrow what's wrong? I'm sure he's alright, his condition has improved a lot and I told the Hotheads to go easy on him."

I wipe the absolute look of horror off my face. "Okay, thanks Millie, I'm just gonna go find him then-" I turn around too fast, and then realize I still have the groceries, and turn again mechanically to put them on the table. The second I'm out of the tunnel I break into a run.

The Geotherms. The heart of the refuge.

_Oh my god, what have I done?_


End file.
